


Neko

by jarethsdragon



Category: Overwatch (Video Game), overwatch
Genre: D/s, F/M, Finally there is a bit of plot, Multi, Pet Play, Petplay, Punishment, Roleplay, Submission, Submissive Training, Training, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-19 20:29:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 57,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13131573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jarethsdragon/pseuds/jarethsdragon
Summary: Jesse asks his buddy Hanzo for help with his lover and learning to be more dominant over his sexy kitten—you.  Then again.  And again.  What’s a Shimada to do when he is obsessed with a girl he will never have?





	1. Chapter 1

Hanzo stared at the cowboy blankly. “What do you mean you are having trouble?”

Jesse puffed out some air. “Well, she’s a little bit of a wildcat.” The archer was steady and stoic despite the blush on the larger man’s cheeks. “Well...I guess I thought that since she was such a honey that she’d just kind to take to it. You know, she’s always got a smile and is all soft and sweet.”

“And?”

“And so we saw this thing online. A hot little number with long hair and the fuzzy cat ears and a bushy tail and a cute lil collar and leash. And my li’l darlin’ saw me watching it and she got as hot as a Texas skillet in July.” Jesse blushed again. “So for her birthday a few weeks ago, I got her the whole getup—tail ‘n’ ears and all.”

Hanzo crossed his arms, watching and listening to the outlaw sigh dramatically in silence. Jesse was as gallant and honorable a men as he had ever found, but he did tend to let females get away with foolishness too much.

Jesse puffed out another breath. “But now my li’l girl is starting to get stroppy ‘n’ I don’t know how to reign her in without hurtin’ her.” He shrugged a little hopelessly. “I can take down a bronc’ but I don’t wanna come at her with my spurs or nothin’ like that.” He scratched his whiskers with a look of confusion. “She’s actin’ up and will stop listenin’ an’ I don’t know what to do.”

Hanzo sighed and raised an eyebrow. “And you think that I can help?”

“Sure!” Jesse beamed. “Now, don’t you get to thinkin’ I ain’t seen her when she is your student—!”

“We were going over archery basics,” Hanzo replied. “Of course she was paying attention. It meant nothing.”

“Uh-huh,” said Jesse smugly, not believing that for a moment. “And when you thanked her for bringing you yer tea afterwards ‘n’ she blushed and stammered like a schoolgirl?”

Hanzo snorted. “It is entirely possible that she had...some feelings for me as her instructor.” He looked at Jesse evenly. “If it a problem, then I will reassign—.”

“No, no problem,” Jesse insisted. “Just...c’mon over and show me how you do it.”

Hanzo groaned. “I promise you, my friend, that I do nothing—!”

“No...you do something. You got some kind of mojo with her,” Jesse burbled. “And I wanna see how it works.” He plucked off the dusty cowboy hat and scratched his head. “I don’t know what kind of mojo it is, but.... Well, it’s not like you got a girl to complain that yer spending this evenin’ with us.”

Hanzo about choked and turned red. “Jesse.”

“C’mon. We can all have some fun and you can show me how this works.”

You received a brief text from Jesse—“Get all dolled up. Kitten. There in 20.”—and went to the dresser drawer where all your toys were. The furry toys were on top—a vibrating butt plug with about 18 inches of wide, fluffy tail and a thick headband with triangular ears in matching black fur. Of course, Jesse hadn’t been able to resist his own soft touches—little pink satin ribbon roses at the base of the ears and pink satin bow at the base of the tail. The little collar and matching leash were also pink leather with little bows and a cheeky little golden bell opposite the buckle on the collar. Aside from that, you had a pretty black satin corset with see through lace cups, a shiny soft skirt and some new black thigh high socks with paw prints across the balls of the feet that you wore with lacy garters.

There wasn’t much to prepare honestly—it all fit so well that it slid on quickly and layered in a highly flattering way. And you looked amazing in it—a sexy kitten if there ever was one. In a few more minutes, you had smoky eye makeup and a lipstick the deep shade of berries. You preened in the functional mirror on the back of the closet door, fluffing your hair around the headband of cat ears.

Jesse had fallen in love with the videos that he had found, and you had too. It was typical porn in that there was no meaningful plot—a line or two that somehow the girl had been turned into a cat or something similar—and then shots of how the “owner” came in and took charge and then the poses and clips of sex. But it hadn’t been until he found a clip of a “kitten” that looked like you that he had really decided to go for it.

Unfortunately, Jesse was not quite the burst in and take charge type. He preferred Southern charm—asking and cajoling and sweet talking—over giving orders and punishments. And that was really the draw for you—the stern owner giving such erotic orders. When you tried to explain it, you must have made a hash of it because he had given like 2 orders and then become flustered. When you tried to prod him by a bit of playful refusal—expecting a sharp spank at least—he had switched immediately back to soft spoken Southern drawl of asking politely.

It kind of killed the whole thing for you. You felt like a horse with no rider—all dressed up and no one guiding the trip.

You had tried again, but it had turned out largely the same—him shifting back to asking and cajoling rather than ordering and just getting flustered and distracted when you bucked the orders. He couldn’t be stern for more than a minute, which really killed the mood. Most of the time he was the most considerate and honorable of partners, but in this one area you guys were just hitting a bunch of static.

But, maybe third time was lucky.

You flicked the little bell at your neck idly. The little golden chime rang in the still apartment. It was empty—it even sounded empty in the silence.

The lock on the door sounded and you glanced at it. It was better not to get your hopes up, you supposed, and you really kind of were just going through the motions. If it didn’t work out tonight, then maybe you would just do something else. He like old spaghetti westerns—maybe a costume from one of them would do it for him...maybe a bordello costume with a flashy feather headdress and lace fan. That would match that ragged cowboy hat and the boots and belt buckle.

Jesse burst in with two paper bags bearing the logo of a close liquor shop and the corner grocery that stocked primarily chips and nabs for quick snacks. “Darlin’, ya look amazin’” he smiled.

You let a weak smirk out. “Meow.” You twisted a bit to cause your tail to flip and were about to make some other smartass remark when you glanced behind him.

Hanzo glided into the room, glancing at the battered furniture that Jesse called “rustic” but most any other person would call “threadbare” or, worse, “junk”. Your mouth went dry as his eyes flicked to the corners of the room—an obvious cautious move that was unconscious habit drilled in from way back when. Then, nonchalantly, he kicked off his boots beside the door and came into the apartment in his thick socks.

Jesse smirked, glancing at you as you suddenly flushed and looked away. “So, I invited Han over, darlin’.”

Your mouth gaped, started to make some remark back, but Hanzo’s dark eyes were locked on yours in an icy glare. “Stand up straight,” he barked.

Instinctively, you felt the glare of the stern manner in your spine. Straightening up, you locked eyes with the archer and stood completely straight. The headband slipped a little at your sudden movement and your hand reached up to flick it back into place, but at the slight shake of his head, you turned pink and dropped your hand to your side.

Jesse stared at you, then Hanzo and then you again in amazed silence. Then he burst out laughing. “Told you, Han. She’s got a thing for you and yer mojo.” He shot you both a lazy smirk. “And she’s even obeying.”

Hanzo didn’t even blink—didn’t break eye contact at all. Abruptly you felt about 3 inches tall. Not that he’d ever hurt you—you were positive about that—but you were equally sure that he knew everything you’d ever done wrong since 3rd grade.

He snapped—the sound loud even over Jesse’s chuckles and the paper bags that rattled in his grip as he put them down on the bedside table. You were riveted to the sound and the sharp point of his elegantly long fingers as they pointed to a small cowhide footstool. Without delay, you stepped on the stool.

He nodded shortly and the finally looked at Jesse. “I believe that she is...not hopeless,” he said softly with a sharp, sideways glance that left you flustered and flushed. His hand traced from your hip to between your legs—to your completely shaven cunt. “At least she is cleanly shaved.” He looked up at Jesse and nodded. “I also believe that I will have some of that sake you picked up.”

Jesse grinned—you could barely see it in the reflection in the glass front of one of the desert landscapes that you had painted and Jesse had framed and hung on the wall—and began taking out bottles. “Sure thing. Then I think that I’ll have a drink myself and watch y’all have fun.”

Hanzo nodded briefly as he walked around you on the stool. “As you can see, there is nothing to this—only a firm voice and firm hand.”

Jesse snorted softly and began rooting around the bedside table drawers for the shot glasses he kept there. “Just wait until she turns stroppy.”

Hanzo nodded shortly, sending you another glance that left shivers running down your spine. “We will see.”

The cowboy finished pouring the sake into the shot glass and passed it to Hanzo. Directly in front of you, sending warm glances at you, he brought the glass to his nose and sniffed it, taking in the fragrance of the liquor. He glanced at you again with a smirk and drank a swallow of it.

You relaxed, seeing him smile, and just about stepped down when his eyes caught yours again. His eyes hardened over the little cup bearing saying “Don’t Panic” in large, friendly letters. “I did not tell you to move.”

Immediately, you straightened up on the stool, listening to the men enjoy their drinks. Your lips pursed as Hanzo circled back around to stand in front of you. Jesse snorted behind you, lounging on the brown recliner with the loud squeaky springs. Glancing at the Japanese man, you looked at the shot glass and then him.

He ignored you. Completely. He sipped his sake in an offhand way, only marginally glancing at you as he looked around the shared apartment. Sauntering around behind you again, you heard him rustle around and Jesse let out a low whistle.

That worried you for a moment. Nervously, you twisted to glance at Hanzo and see what he was doing.

Immediately, you regretted it. His brows tilted down, his frown sending shivers down your spine. His knuckles tightened around the shot glass. His free hand held a worn riding crop against his leg and a length of rope was looped over his shoulder.

Jesse chuckled as you stared Hanzo. “See, this is usually where she gets stroppy.”

Hanzo acknowledged the other man’s words with a brief, curt nod and then focused entirely on you. With measured grace, he sat down the shot glass on a table. “I see.” The archer paced around you one more time. “However, I have repeatedly found that pets will rebel if their owners are too lax.”

“Hey!” Jesse protested with a half smirk.

“It is good that you came to me so early,” Hanzo continued blandly. “Or she might have been...irretrievably harmed.”

“Now that’s fightin’ words,” Jesse growled.

Hanzo hummed in his throat. “The lack of discipline is never a good thing for a pet.” His hand absently petted your hair. “It is not entirely your fault—she is high spirited—but you must be firm and consistent.”

You shuddered at the tension, attracting the archer’s attention. He nodded and gently stroked you. “Do not worry, pet. I will take care of you.” He smirked as he stroked your flanks through your skirt. “You are high spirited. Like a thoroughbred racehorse—you cannot settle without someone taking a firm grip on the reigns.” His hand traced random patterns over your skin. “You need a firm hand and to be controlled, don’t you pet?”

You nodded blankly with a whimper. Your thigh twitched and you feared that your heated slick would start dripping down between your legs. Your nerves jittered with excitement and you couldn’t resist shifting your feet—flushing as you realized that you were stomping like the racehorse he described.

He snapped at you and you reluctantly stood up straight and still again, turning a little to watch Hanzo. He continued to frown, glaring at you. Taking in a deep breath, he walked up to you and let the coils of rope slide off his shoulder and hit the floor in coils at your feet.

Reaching up casually, he gripped the leash at the collar, his thumb and fingers pinching on the pink leather gently and causing it to tighten. “Do not move,” he ordered you. You nodded shakily, your stomach jumping and twisting and heat trickling through your body. Jerking your collar a tiny bit more, he glared. Raising a finger to just in front of your lips, he said, “First, I expect you to obey, the first time, every time.” Raising a second finger, he added, “If you fail, then you will be punished. In any way I choose.”

Jesse coughed nervously. “Now, Han—don’t get too rough with my lil’ honeybee—.”

Hanzo jerked the collar one more time and pinched the leather so that it tightened around your neck just a hair more. Your eyes fluttered shut as the snug pressure wrapped around your sensitive neck. That was your most sensitive spot—making your knees weak as it tickled your submissive nature. “You have asked for my help.” He watched the cowboy’s lazy grin fade slightly. “I am showing you what to do. In the meantime, I expect you to be silent and learn what I am teaching.”

Jesse’s voice was a little hoarse. “But my lil’ honeybee—!”

“Is in dire need of training,” Hanzo finished sternly. “I will not harm her, but I will discipline her. If you do not agree, I will go now.”

You whined softly, shaking your head and hair wildly. You did not want him to leave! Your eyes screwed shut and tears formed in the corners of your eyes. This was what you wanted—the firm hand, the sharp orders, and the firm consequences. You bit your lip to keep from shrieking—that would surely get you punished and that unknown punishment was the one thing that kept you from buckling.

Jesse must have nodded because Hanzo grunted and nodded curtly. Then the archer’s attention was back on you. “You have been too easy on her. It is necessary to correct this.”

There was silence, and you nibbled on your bottom lip nervously. You were so close that you could smell the light fragrance of incense or musk on his hands. Your stomach clenched and you flushed, glancing away from his intense gaze.

“OK, as long as you don’t hurt my darlin’,” Jesse agreed uncomfortably. There was a rustle of fabric and Jesse’s voice warmed. “But don’t mind me if I happen to like what yer doin’.”

Hanzo nodded with a soft grunt that shouted his assent. He was so expressive with his grunts that it was almost unnecessary to speak. His grip loosened and his hand slid down the leash to hold the loop at the end. The leash was taut, but not snapped too tightly.

“Look at me when I speak to you,” he hissed.

Almost instantly, your eyes locked into his own. Hanzo pulled the leash, and you nervously stepped down in front of him. Growling low in his barrel chest, his eyes narrowed and he looked at you. “Now, for your first task, you will properly greet your owner and his honored guest.”

You flushed, feeling a sudden heat in your groin. This was hot, clenching in your guts and making delightful tingles shiver down your spine. It would be amazing, but Hanzo’s stare continued to rain down on you in disapproval and making you shiver as you tried to figure out whether you should be horny or scared. Stuttering out a reply, you whispered, “W-w-what should I do?”

He snapped to the floor. “Kneel.” Instantly you dropped to your knees, your head bowed suddenly shyly. He toyed with the leash and walked behind you. Kneeling beside you and wrapping his calloused hand around the back of your neck, he ignored your rasping gasp of protest. “In my family’s home, you would be punished for not showing proper respect.”

You tried to straighten or rear back, tried to wiggle a little, but the hand held you firmly in place.

“In my family, if you failed to show respect like this, you would be led to the two columns in the main room of the kyassuru. Your wrists would be tied with rope and the rope would be wrapped around the columns to that you were spread wide between them. Your feet would be bare and you would be forced to stand on grains of dried rice on the tile floor with your ankles tied together.”

You closed your eyes and moaned. You couldn’t help it as the words forced the images to bloom in your mind. You could almost feel the sharp grains digging into your tender feet and your toes curled in response. You wanted to move—to spread your limbs just to prove that you could and prove that his words weren’t as real as your mind was making them.

His voice never wavered as he drug the leather tip of the crop across your shoulders. “You would be stripped naked. Your breasts would be exposed to the air—,” The crop grazed down your breasts and then dipped to your hip as prickles of heat shot through you. “—and your ass would be bare. Everyone would see all of you.

“You would be stretched wide between those columns. Your skin here on your shoulder would be inked with a soft brush and dark ink with the list of your crimes. Your mouth would be filled with a rice filled bag with ribbons dripping out of your mouth.” He shifted behind you again, the crop wandering over your skin in a caress. “You would be on display for anyone who cared to look. And everyone would know why you were there.” You swallowed heavily, a reflex from the sudden dryness in your throat as you imagined the rice filled cloth stuffing your mouth. “And then you would be beaten.”

He straightened abruptly, letting you go. For a moment, you whined at the loss of warmth. Frowning still, he tapped your shoulders with the crop making you bite your lip. “You would be beaten ten times across the back, then ten across your lovely ass. Every time that you moved at all, the count would begin again. If you cried out, a weight would be tied to the rice gag in your mouth and if you dropped it, then all of it would happen again the next night. And again until the count was completed without dropping it.”

You swallowed again, panting. Then you felt Hanzo’s sock foot on your back, curling you over your knees with little effort. “Bow your head in respect,” Hanzo grunted. “You are a pet, and do not deserve to look upon your owner unless given permission.”

Quite quickly, you bow your head, your nose practically bumping into your crushed breasts. You whimpered, shivering at your cunt in the air and your submissive posture. You could see practically nothing—just a wide field of carpet that gently rasped against your tight nipples through their thin lace covering. You whimpered again as a small vision of that rice filled bag bloomed in your mind.

“Silence,” Hanzo snapped sternly. “You have not been given permission to speak.”

You nodded in miserable agreement. Hanzo’s soft socks flickered around as he walked to stand in front of you. “If I choose, you will remain here, like this, for hours. For the entire evening if I so choose.” His fingers flicked the tendrils of hair that were trailing down your back to over your shoulders. “You have failed—.” You gasped miserably at the last word. “—to show the most basic of respect.”

“Now, crawl to your owner, wait for permission to speak, and then offer your apologies. Then, to me because you have also apologize to your owner’s honored guest.”

Blindly, you shuffled over in that humiliating posture to the recliner. Jesse’s boots and his ridiculous spurs came into view as he lowered the recliner. There was an agonizing moment that felt so much longer when no one said anything. You closed your eyes, feeling tears prickle and your throat go raw.

Jesse’s boots moved slightly as he leaned forward. His large hand stroked your head softly. “Awww, shucks, honeybee. I know you didn’t mean nothin’—.”

“No!” Hanzo interrupted softly but firmly. “In matters of correction and punishment, there must be no softness or wavering. It only confuses the pet.”

The cowboy must have nodded because the recliner squeaked. There was a pregnant moment of silence again. Hanzo prompted, “When you are convinced that she is properly penitent, then you may allow her to speak her apologies.”

Jesse’s laugh was low and husky. After a few moments more, he rasped out, “Speak to me kitten.”

“I’m s-sorry,” you whispered. “I-I...I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.”

You didn’t see whatever looks were exchanged between the two men, but Jesse was apparently convinced. His hand came to you almost immediately, smoothing your hair and tweaking the fuzzy cat ears. “I see, darlin’. Now...go apologize to Han.”

You crawled over to the archer’s feet. Now, you were starting to sweat. He hadn’t relaxed at all—didn’t appear to be impressed by your newfound humility at all. That scraped your throat—that you had irreparably damaged the relationship you had with him as his student and as an agent. You respected him immensely and now it felt like that was somehow in jeopardy.

He was completely silent. You stayed in your position, waiting—praying—for permission to speak. Finally, he cleared his throat and said, “Speak, pet.”

“I-I-I am sorry!”

The leather crop trailed over your shoulders restlessly. “What are you sorry for?”

“For being disrespectful,” you whispered.

He let out a soft chuckle that skittered up your spine. “I will punish you for your behavior to me.” He walked over to the footstool and sat down. “Come over here—crawl!—and lay across my legs.”

You shivered and crept over to the archer. A quick, darting glance showed that Jesse was plainly torn between enjoying your rump bouncing in the air as you crawled, curiosity to see what would happen and sense of protectiveness. If it was anyone else but Hanzo, you would have retreated to the haven of Jesse’s arms, but it was Hanzo and you crawled resolutely to the archer and laid down across his lap.

“Good girl, koneko,” he praised solemnly. With a deft move, he unfastened the skirt and set it aside. “Be brave and face your punishment well.”

His large hand practically covered your ass. He pushed the tail aside—almost folded double on your back—so that it left your ass bare. His hand was so, so warm, so firm as he kneaded your flesh. “Koneko, for your disrespect, you will be paddled ten times.” His hand squeezed gently and his voice was firm and soft. “You will count each stroke or we will start again.”

The first strike was firm, across your left cheek. “Now count, koneko,” he prompted.

“One!”

The second one was equally firm, across the right cheek. You didn’t need prompting to blurt out, “Two!”

His strokes varied their location, overlapping only slightly the first five times. You wriggled, but Hanzo’s free hand pressed you back across his lap. “Be still, koneko.” His hand gently squeezed the pink flesh. “Be brave and count the strokes.”

You nodded a bit wildly and the sixth stroke came down. “S-s-six!”

His hand kept stroking your warm backside. A large, rough finger slipped into your soft, heated warmth. Lightning rocketed through you as his finger was suddenly drenched in warmth. You couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be erotic or not, but it sure was hot.

Then he paddled you again. “S-s-s-s,” you hissed as his finger went back down. Immediately, he pinched your red ass cheek and you jumped. “Sev—Seven!”

He laughed shortly. “Do not become distracted, koneko.” You wriggled only a little, the firm pressure on your back soothing in its limitation. “Keep counting. It would be a shame to start again, would it not?”

Taking a deep breath, you nodded in mute agreement. The hand came down with a splat. “E-e-eight!”

Blatantly, he began caressing you again, kneading your ass and sliding his finger into your growing wetness. His voice was low and sure as he drug his wet finger up to your mouth. “Little koneko, be brave. I want to be proud of you. Now, taste yourself.”

Blindly you suckled it, bucking. Your taste was sweet and tangy and you licked his finger clean eagerly. You could feel Hanzo’s little dragon enjoying the game as well as it grew against your belly and you dipped your belly to rub against it.

You were so blinded by what you were enjoying that you never saw the next stroke coming. It crashed through and you shrieked in surprise.

“Count!” he barked angrily.

“N-nine!” You whined in frustration as the archer’s fingers came back, stroking and arousing you again. Still, he kept one hand firmly on your lower back, pressing you down on his lap and not letting you fondle yourself or him.

Jesse leaned back in the recliner again. With a glance, you saw him shucking down his pants, releasing himself and beginning to stroke his hardness with a charming grin on his face. Your mouth went dry to see his hands moving up and down.

The archer refused to let your attention wander for long. Two fingers curled inside you, snapping you back to his demands. You sobbed as Hanzo kept massaging you and rubbing the overheated and sore flesh of your ass. Then he pulled out and pinched you sharply. It was all too much, you shivered and didn’t know whether to expect pleasure or pain. And it kept going on and on, but he refused to let you go. Whimpering, you hung your head, biting your lip and feeling the exhausting zigzag between pleasure and pain.

“Patience, koneko,” he rumbled, kneading your ass again. “One more and then you are done with your punishment.” He patted you gently. “Can you count for one more?”

You swallowed heavily and nodded jerkily. Mercifully, the stroke was swift and sharp and you shrieked out “Ten!”

“Good. Good.” Hanzo praised you. “You handled your punishment well.”

You flushed darkly as Hanzo kept rubbing your bruised flesh. It was a bittersweet torment as the archer kept massaging you idly. As his hands kept lingering between your leg, you whimpered. Perversely, his fingers walked down your hips to press against the tight ring of your ass around the vibrator base and thump it. You bucked at the unfamiliar sensation—Jesse hadn’t ever done that—and was immediately soothed as his fingers’ next step was a dip into your moist cunt and then a deep slide to the gut-clenching sweet spot inside. You couldn’t help but squeak as lightning flickered all over you.

His chuckle rumbled through his body. “Do you have a bridle, Jesse-San?”

Jesse’s deeper voice panted, “L-l-like a horse?”

“Hmm, more like a gag,” Hanzo murmured, stroking you gently again. “A leather harness with a rounded bit so that you do not accidentally cut her soft mouth.” Dizzily, you nodded as his soaked finger dipped back into your mouth. You suckled it, moaning as the tangy taste spread across your tongue. Pulling it out again, he added “She seems to get...vocal.”

Alarmed that you were about to get punished again, you stuffed your fist into your mouth to stop the moans from pouring out. You felt your cheeks flush bright red. His fingers dipped down between your legs again and a gurgling squeak escaped. Flushing even more, you bit your knuckles.

Of course, the man above you noticed. He kept one hand on your back and with the other smacked your fist. You glanced up at him nervously, your mouth open and your hand went up and down nervously as you tried to figure out what to do. “That is a bad habit, petto. Do not do it again.”

Nodding jerkily, you twitched, blindly trying to figure out what to do with your hand. You grunted and gritted your teeth as he gently turned on the vibrator of the tail. His hands continued to alternate between massaging you and giving you sharp pinches. When you let out a whine, one of those huge, hot hands wrapped under your neck like you were a guitar. Shaking your head wildly one more time before settling down, you felt hot tears drip down your cheeks.

“Why the tears, koneko?” The archer’s voice was soft and beguiling you to speak. “Are you in pain?”

You shook your head wildly again. Pain was definitely not what you were feeling—it was fucking white hot arousal. Your body was throbbing, waiting impatiently for fulfillment. His hands kept wandering down, not satisfying you by thrusting his fingers inside or rubbing your aching clit and not allowing you to calm down either as his hands crept close to your heated core before drifting away.

Hanzo hummed softly and your eyes drifted to Jesse. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes glistened merrily as he kept stroking his cock. Small drops of pre-cum glistened for a moment on his thick tip before his big hand brushed up and down. You whimpered as the archer’s hand drifted over your sensitive ass and between your thighs and Jesse only grinned wider before laying his head back and bucking into his hand.

“Please,” you whispered softly.

Another smack came down on your ass. You yelped and jumped, your hands pushing and your knees scrambling futilely underneath you. Hanzo’s grip on your neck tightened and refused to let you go, pulling you back down across his lap while his other hand pushed on the small of your back

“You do not have permission to move or to speak, koneko,” he snapped angrily. His hand came down again sharply with a crack. Then, he did it again and again, punctuating each of his words. “Lay. Back. Down!”

Clumsily, you jerked back down to his lap. He loosened his grip as soon as you laid back down and he began to stroke you again when you managed to relax. He hummed again, patiently stroking you. With a low rumble in his voice, he said, “I’m disappointed in you, koneko.”

You began to cry in earnest, your chest jerking and your tears falling on his leg. Everything left you, as his words sunk into you. There was no more fight in you as his disappointment rained down. You closed your eyes, waiting for something you couldn’t even name as his hands drifted across your skin, gentle once again.

“Shhhh,” Hanzo murmured. “Rest.” Your eyes were half-closed and you nodded blankly. “Conserve your energy.” His hand gently pressed against your hips down against his muscular leg. You nodded again silently and he hummed again. “Relax.”

“Now, honeybee,” Jesse panted. His voice sounded far away, distant. “Jus’ do what he says.”

Hanzo snorted. “You should be taking notes, cowboy.” He kept sliding his hands over your hot skin. “You would not have any problems if you were firmer with your pet.”

“She’s a sweetie,” Jesse hummed.

“Not that I can see,” Hanzo snorted. “She seems to be distracted and unable to relax and is thus rebellious.” He watched as you shuddered against him, amused as you whimpered with a small shake of your head. “Do you want to speak, koneko?”

You nodded, taking in a shaking breath. With a soft mewl, you raised your head half-heartedly before dropping it and settling your neck in his palm again. You flinched, waiting for another rain of blows, but instead there was only the gentle stroking up and down. You dared to let out another soft mewl, forcing your body to relax across the muscular legs of the archer and against the hard lump in his lap. As he kept evenly stroking you, your body went limp as you did feel yourself relax.

After another few moments, he nodded and murmured, “Speak, little one. What do you want to say?” He paused with his hand between your legs, so close to the moist core that ached for his friction. “I will give you permission to say one thing.”

You nodded slightly, acknowledging his words. What did you want to say? Mewling again, your mind spun dizzily. There was nothing you could think of to say—no single thing—because all the words you wanted to say were mushing together in your brain. “I’m sorry!” you blurted out.

“Hmmm. For what?”

You shuddered again. His hands drifted closer, disappearing between your legs down to cup your crotch underneath the bushy tail. He saw you squirm slightly, but the first flicker of his hand tightening, you laid back down across his lap. With a shuddering breath, you mewled again, shaking your head. “I...I... I’m sorry.”

“You said that,” Hanzo murmured. His wriggling fingers teased you mercilessly. “What are you sorry for?”

“I didn’t mean to be disrespectful,” you whimpered. “I didn’t mean it.” You shook your head restlessly. “I...I want to be a good pet.” You shuddered and mewled again, jerking your legs in a half-hearted kick. “I don’t want to....” You broke off with another sob and collapsed again limply across his lap. “Don’t wanna be bad.”

He hummed again. “Do you know that you disappointed me, koneko?” At your resigned nod, he continued with a small twitch of his fingers. “I was very disappointed that you did not show the proper respect—to either Jesse as your owner or to me as his guest.” He smirked. “What do you think that I should do with such a bad kitten?”

“I want to be better,” you whispered sadly against his leg.

“Good,” he murmured with approval as he turned off the vibrator. “Now, breathe in.” He released your crotch and began dragging his fingers up from your thighs to your neck. His fingers lingered up at your neck for a moment. “Breathe out.” His fingers went down to the tops of your thighs. “Breathe in. Breathe out.”

Your head spun for a moment as you drug in another deep breath and his fingers slid up your body. The steady breathing was at first dizzying, then relaxing. Your brain turned to mush as you loosened up even more, breathing in time to the archer’s caress. This must be what the online groups referred to as a “subspace” because everything was just falling away and you were absolutely reduced to a mindless pet on his lap. All of your energy was gone and you were even breathing according to his will.

He proved it, too. His hand skipped upwards quickly and you sucked in a hurried breath before letting out the breath slowly as he hand slid down again. Vaguely confused, you concentrated on his hand, but even that couldn’t drag you out of the hazy, cotton-wrapped feeling that wrapped around you.

“She’s lookin’ sleepy, Han,” Jesse remarked with thick disappointment in his voice.

“A relaxed pet is a more obedient one,” Hanzo replied with a deep rumble.

“Still looks sleepy,” Jesse grumbled.

Hanzo only hummed. “Perhaps,” he replied. “Maybe it is time to wake her up.” Gently, he nudged your side, having you kneel on the floor facing the cowboy as he settled behind you. He brushed your arm from your wrist to your shoulder, maintaining the rhythm of your breathing. He looked at your hooded eyes, taking in your glazed stare that didn’t really see him. “I think that she might be ready.”

“Stay there,” the Japanese man ordered softly. “Just like that.” You nodded blankly, watching him distantly as he stood up. He brought one hand up and took in a breath. You copied him, taking in a deep breath. He dropped his hand slowly, breathing out and you released your breath in response. In his other hand, he scooped up the rope and began circling you. “Keep breathing. In and out.”

Even that was distant and relaxing because every touch skidded up and down in the same, steady rhythm of breathing in and out. When he looped the rope around your arms and under your breasts, the tail of the rope went up and down your back. When he looped the rope around your arms in a kind of sleeve down your back, he sucked a breath in and then released it out, letting his own breath fan your hair and brush your cheeks with sake sweet fragrance.

You twisted slightly, sniffing the air curiously. Hanzo grunted sharply and one hand twisted the knots on your arms, tightening the coils but not overly painfully. You stiffened and your back arched slightly as you twisted restlessly. You were about to protest, but the archer grunted again and shook his head, bringing his finger to your mouth. “Relax,” he growled lowly. “Breathe as I have instructed. My hand goes up—you breathe in. My hand goes down—you breathe out.” You were going to say something, but he shook his head. “A pet’s first duty is obedience.” His free hand began going up and down your thigh. “Be silent and obedient and respect my orders.”

You nodded, sucking your breath in and out to the rhythm he set. Almost as soon as you did, the grip on the rope loosened, relaxed, and you took in an even deeper breath as you could settle comfortably. Hanzo murmured in an approving tone, slowing down his crawling hand slightly so that you were gradually breathing more and more deeply. The effect was almost instant relaxation that felt deeper and deeper.

McCree got more interested, watching keenly as Hanzo wove the ropes around you. Your arms were held snugly behind your back in a kind of lacy pattern that looked like dragonfly wings. There were three layers of rope under your breasts and then two loops went around your breasts and made them look plump and amazingly full to the point of overflowing the thin lace cups. Still you were breathing evenly, seemed to be vaguely disconnected from the experience, echoing the archer’s breathing and movements.

Hanzo turned to Jesse. “As you can see, I am in complete control of her.” You kept breathing in his tempo as his words to the cowboy drifted past. “Her breathing is even—she is relaxed. She is not fighting because I do not allow her to.” Hanzo gently turned you slightly so that you were facing Jesse. The men smiled at each other as you wove uncertainly. Jesse laid back on the recliner, feeling more sure than he had before. You were still relaxed, almost limp as you were arranged the way that the archer wanted you.

Hanzo knelt behind you, starting to drag his fingers up and down your arm again. “Koneko,” he whispered in your ear. “Do you hear me?” You nodded, shifting slightly in the ropes like a cat settling into a pillow. “Good. Keep breathing.”

While one hand stayed busy, trailing up and down your arm, the other hand pulled down the lace cups and began gently massaging your breast. You mewled softly in confusion, but did not move otherwise. His fingers tweaked your nipple, making you jump a little. Fire kept clenching in your gut as his gentle strokes kept sparks flying. Disobeying Hanzo was the furthest thing from your mind as he rewarded you with gentle flicks and curls of his fingers around your nipples.

“Now things get interesting,” Hanzo murmured against your neck. He picked up the fuzzy tail and trailed it up and down your thigh, tickling you, before tucking it around your folded legs.

Ever so slowly, his free hand gently pulled on your breasts, alternating between them. You mewled again, stuttering between following the one hand in slow, even breaths and the soft simmer the other one was provoking. Warmth flowed into your chest in a dizzy spiral.

Still stroking your arm evenly, Hanzo’s other hand—that wicked other hand—dipped to gently rub your belly and then down between your legs. With a touch as delicate as a geisha’s, he traced the slit and dipped slightly to touch the trace of moisture between your legs.

Your body swayed and leaned back against him. Your knees automatically spread and your eyes closed as he supported your weight. He was so strong—so very strong—and his chest was so wide and warm. Even as his fingers lingered and crept closer and closer to your heat, it was so very comfortable and steady to be held up like this.

You literally stopped thinking as he held you like that. You couldn’t move—surrounded by him and held by him—and more importantly, you didn’t want to move. You wanted to do whatever you could to keep coasting on this warm and comforting feeling and the numb buzzing that clouded you and made you a dumb and compliant pet for their pleasure.

A single finger slipped inside you, almost without you noticing. You whimpered, debating whether or not to try to move, right up until he curled it. More warmth bubbled in your belly as he gently curled his finger. Your mouth dropped open as he began pumping it gently in and out. Your stomach clenched and your cunt clamped around his finger. He paused, curling it to scrape inside and forcing a dizzy gasp out of you.

Then he curled his finger, scraping the sensitive patch that made you whine. He kept breathing so slowly in your ear, curling his finger again and feeling you stiffen slightly only to lean further back onto him. He smirked a little, not changing his breathing as he slid further in and out until he was knuckle deep, sliding in and out.

The internal warmth began bubbling more as his finger kept going in and out. A bit of spit was dropping out of your mouth and you sucked in a shuddering breath to suck it back into your mouth. Instantly, Hanzo stilled, waiting until you were again breathing in concert with him before sliding in and out again. At your slightest movement, he would pause his slow and even thrusts until you were again still and breathing to the tempo he set.

He still controlled you—even controlling your breath. A hand drifted behind you to touch the vibrator and set it off at a low hum again. You whimpered, sagging against him as the vibrations made your ass clench around the tail. His fingers drifted to your front again nonchalantly as he kept guiding your breathing and his finger kept sliding in and out from the front. With a small twitch, his finger shifted back and gently pinched the wall between your cunt and the vibrator, making all of your insides shake.

Liquid warmth like summer honey coated his finger and he added a second, sliding gently in and out and stretching you gently. You moaned softly, bucking into his hand and wordlessly encouraging him. With a soft laugh, he curled both fingers, scraping that delicate place inside that made you wriggling weakly in his arms.

“You like that koneko,” he whispered.

You nodded blankly, still in a haze. His thumb was now pushing and nudging your aching clit as he slid in and out. You bucked again, trying to blindly find the pressure and friction your body wanted. Both men laughed as you whimpered and tried to buck blindly forward.

Gently, Hanzo laid you down, stretching out your legs on the floor. He stroked your front from the sensitive hollow at your neck to your thighs, keeping you breathing deeply and somehow on an edge as his other hand kept thrusting in and out. Again, your legs seemed to fall open at his bidding and he settled between them.

His mouth brushed your belly—warmth and softness—and you keened softly. Almost immediately, you ground your ass down, feeling the soft buzzing in your ass and trying to jam it harder. Both hands left your body only to settle under your hips and tilt them up. Shaking slightly, you tilted your head to the side and closed your eyes all the way.

Again he paused and waited for you to realize that you were gaining none of the friction or the pleasure you wanted. Only when you whimpered and stilled, breathing as the drag of his fingers directed, did he continue.

His delicate lick sent shivers through you. You gasped and about came off the floor, only to lay back down as he kissed your clit again. You tried—you really tried—to keep your breathing slow and smooth, but there was fire in your blood. When he pushed his tongue directly into your wet heat, you couldn’t help but moan. Hanzo laughed softly in response, the sound rumbling through you as you gasped in another deep breath and tried to catch up with his drifting hand.

You shuddered weakly, the ropes feeling like they were the only things keeping you from falling to pieces. Dizzy for a wicked moment, it felt like the ropes were actually suspending you in the air as his deft fingers dove in and gently scissored. He kissed your belly softly, lapping at your warm skin. You mewled, twisting your hips slightly, trying to figure out where up was and how to get there.

His fingers kept going, sliding gently in and out as he kept pressing soft kisses against you. You tossed your head slightly, staring blankly at Jesse as he pumped his cock into his fist with a satisfied grin. When you looked at the archer, he seemed to be in a trance—his eyes were heavily hooded and blown wide and dark, a fine sheen of sweat glistened on him like the sheen of lacquer, and his muscles bunched as he moved smoothly backward and forward.

You thought he was beautiful, but you couldn’t say anything as his head bent again to lick at you.

Your hips did lift against his hands and head as he suckled—actually suckled—your clit. The inferno was instantaneous—shooting from your hips straight up to your brain. No more words would form as your eyes rolled shut and your body writhed helplessly.

His hand pressed on you at your waist. You felt his fingers—at last, three of them—begin to slide in, gently stretching you. You whined softly, feeling so hot and pliable. When you looked at Jesse, he was lost as well, his head thrown back and arching back as his hips drilled into his meaty hands.

Fuck, that was hot.

You curled up slightly, trying to look at Hanzo, to make some slight movement or sound that would ask him for permission to please move freely. Instead, you saw him rocking forward and back in time with his fingers. His hips dipped slowly as he drilled into you with his fingers and you heard the scrape of the costly silk of his hakama against the rough floor.

Hanzo let out a soft sound, glancing up at you with those passion tense eyes. His hips recoiled and then he thrust forward again, dragging his hips along the floor as his fingers slammed into you. You whined and bucked up as much as you were able, trying to wordlessly welcome him.

Desperately, you spread your legs wider, laying back down and digging your heels into the carpet to try to scoot closer. Hanzo’s hand on your waist pressed fractionally harder and you looked up blearily to see him watching you.

He caught your gaze with a predatory smile, propping up on an elbow and watching as your eyes went wide as his fingers curled. With a twist of his wrist, all of them scraped your inner walls with such sweetness that you threw back your head and howled.

Jesse echoed your cry, snapping your attention to him. His spurs dug awkwardly into the recliner as his hips pumped. His hat slid off the chair entirely as he bucked into his hand a last time before shooting out streams of white. Your eyes dizzily watched as he came and sprayed cum in the air.

Hanzo wasn’t done with you yet. He growled, dragging your bewildered attention back to him as he bent to lap at your clit again. Your eyes went wide and desperate as he lapped and thrust in an erratic rhythm. You bucked wildly and his hand dropped to grip your thigh with bruising force.

You groaned and tried to drag your legs around him. His response was to lower his chest so that you could only barely grip around his shoulders as your legs and feet slipped in the high socks. His hips kept grinding against the floor as his fingers kept going—sometimes scissoring, sometimes thrusting and sometimes just scraping and twisting.

So close.

So very close.

You were so close.

Just a quick...thrust...right THERE!

You dropped from a fiery height over the edge with barely a sigh. Every muscle tensed around the archer, digging in wherever you could find purchase against slick skin or the floor. You panted, canting your hips up and back to ride out your climax as his fingers kept sliding in and out. You convulsed, shaking and straining in the ropes and mewling as he kept pumping. Twisting and pumping with your mouth open wordlessly, you rocked with the archer’s rhythm. He slowed his thrusting gradually, watching your eyes roll closed with pleasure and your hips stutter and curl less and less. In the end, you laid down bonelessly in your bindings—an erotic picture of contented flesh.

The fires slowly died down as Hanzo knelt up, pulling away from you. You whimpered softly, your eyes closed and your mind whirling dizzily. His hand was back on your body, drawing up from your thighs to your neck and you sucked in a deep breath. It crept back down slowly and your breath hissed out.

Again you were breathing at his command. Your mind blanked out as he kept dragging his fingers up and down from your thighs to your neck. Twisting wearily, you tried to nuzzle his hand as it trailed up. He hummed softly and let one hand cradle your cheek as the other kept up the steady rhythm that you blindly obeyed.

“Don’t go,” you whimpered with your eyes closed as his hand moved aside. A thin straw touched your swollen bottom lip. Opening your mouth without opening your eyes, you pulled your head closer to snag it. Taking a sip, you were relieved to taste cold apple juice. The sweet liquid filled your mouth and you gulped it thirstily, cracking an eye to look at his huge hand holding a bright green juice box in front of your face so that you could drink it.

His rough fingers brushed the hair from your face and then cupped your head to help you drink. You felt boneless and relaxed, keenly listening to his even breaths. When the box was empty—the slurping sound echoing in the room—he took the box away and tossed it into a trash can. He murmured to you wordlessly, petting your hair and setting your head down gently. You whimpered as his warm hands flowed away.

“Do not worry, petto,” he whispered softly. “I will take care of you.” You blindly nuzzled his hand as he caressed your cheek again. “Just relax and breathe.”

You mentally collapsed, lapsing back into the controlled breathing as his hand gently stroked up and down. Your eyes rolled closed and you were floating as you came down. A blanket was drawn up over you, tucked gently around your waist. One hand slid around the knots, loosening them and drawing the rope from your body. Your arms flopped bonelessly, and the same strong hand guided them more comfortably in front of you before tucking the blanket around you. From somewhere, a pillow was gently pushed under your head and the headband was gently pulled away.

Hanzo petted your hair, brushing it from your sweaty face. “Good girl,” he whispered in a rumble in your ear. “I am very pleased with you.” Your eyelids fluttered slightly, and your lips moved a little, but you said nothing he could hear and kept breathing in and out.

He cocked an eye at Jesse, who was fumbling with some tissues. The other man nodded vaguely, a happy and satisfied smirk on his bristly face. With a silent movement, he stood, collected his shoes and let himself out, closing the door to the apartment behind him.

Back in his own quarters, he closed and double locked the door. With a wrench, he tore his own clothes off his body and took his own throbbing cock in his hand. Falling on the bed, he sucked in a deep breath, concentrating on the fleeting tangy taste of your pussy in his mouth and the scent of your skin on his.

His own hips stuttered up, pumping recklessly with a fire of their own as he imagined your sighs. He imagined bringing you here—to his room—where he could take his time sliding your clothes off one by one. He could imagine himself rubbing his cock all over your body as though it would mark you as his. He saw himself wrapping a soft leather collar around your neck as you shivered in delight. He drank in the fantasy of laying you on the bed and just watching you.

He wanted to feel you shudder underneath him as your cunt clamped on his cock. He wanted to fill you with his seed and see you gulp his milky cum down and your clenching cunt holding it in your body. He wanted to suckle your breasts, tasting the sweetness of your tight berry colored nipples. He wanted more and more.

He wanted to control you and his body reacted to that thought with fire in his veins.

He wanted to control you completely. He wanted to mold you, guide you, into the most exquisite of pets. He could see himself choosing your meals—fresh fruits and vegetables and finely prepared meats—and guiding your workouts to sculpt your body. His mouth went dry as he imagined picking out your clothes—soft chiffon and lace and feathery things. His cock throbbed at the thought of selecting toys—a soft leather collar and finely tooled leash, a variety of vibrators, a gentle gag—and showing you how much you would enjoy them. His blood boiled at the thought of showing you off like a fine thoroughbred.

His stomach clenched as he imagined leading you to his bed, holding your leash and watching as you pranced in the high heeled shoes he picked out for you. Growling, his hips pumped into his fist as he imagined you leaning forward to take a cautious sip of his potent sake, your breasts full and all but overflowing from the low cut dress he picked out.

His stomach clenched and his cock throbbed as his hand pumped faster. His eyes screwed shut as his mind kept flickering images of your beautiful body laid out for him. Faster and faster, his hand kept stroking up and down as he kept imagining you serving his pleasure. His lips curled back and his hips kept pumping as his fantasies flickered in full color images. His balls tightened painfully and he kept jerking as fast as he could, chasing his release.

Streams of white cum shot out and sprayed into the air, spreading all over his hands as he plummeted over the edge. Lava hot pleasure racked him, making his body shake uncontrollably. The archer shuddered, feeling the thick liquid run over his fist.

Cleaning himself slowly with a few tissues, he couldn’t help but wonder if the cowboy knew what a treasure you were. You were so very precious—a beautiful woman who was not afraid or scornful of deep sexuality. You were a natural submissive—unafraid to trust and try new things and willing to believe that you were safe. In his previous life, he knew of several who would pay hundreds of thousand or millions to secure a female who was unafraid and embraced being a highly sexual pet. He knew in his heart, he would have been one of them.

Yes, the cowboy was your lover. Hanzo knew that he had been allowed probably a once in a lifetime opportunity to come into your relationship. But it did not stop him from dreaming that night.


	2. Chapter 2

Nothing happened for more than a week, and Hanzo finally put the affair into place in his mind. He added it to his rather motley collection of memories that he treasured and tried to keep in his head, locked away where no one could see how much he obsessed over them.

The only problem was whenever he saw you, his body flooded with heat. It was foolishness—you did not even have to do anything. All you had to do was cross his path and he suddenly was buried under the avalanche of memories. Heaven forbid you say something—“good morning” or “excuse me”—because he would have to pull away and go off to keep from pouncing on you.

Hanzo growled deep in his throat. The cowboy was no help either—the way he’d drop your name into conversations or bring you with him. Did the man have no sense? Didn’t he realize that Hanzo had taken women from his type before? Didn’t he realize that the temptation was there like a fever in his blood? Did the cowboy not realize that he would have you if he could?

So Hanzo focused on his training and meditations. At least there, alone in his mind, he was relieved of the buzz in his blood for the most part. During his meditations, he diligently worked to strengthen the thin thread that was holding him back from grabbing any opportunity to take you for his own. But even that was shattered as he heard the distinctive jingle of metal spurs.

“Hey...Hanzo, do you have a moment?” Jesse asked.

The archer sighed heavily. After one more steadying breath, he nodded and waved the cowboy over. “What is it?”

Jesse clumsily knelt beside him. “So, I need your help.”

Hanzo flushed, gritting his teeth unconsciously as heat flooded him again. That thin thread holding him back stretched taut again. “You have asked me that before....”

“Yeah,” Jesse said brightly. “And boy did you come through.” The cowboy flushed a little. “So I was wondering if you could again?”

“And you saw that there was nothing I did,” Hanzo gritted out. “Nothing special—just a firm voice and firm hand.”

“Huh—that’s not what I remember,” Jesse whispered with a grin. “And things are really better on that front. But...what I don’t get is how to...ahh...get her to the next step?”

“Next step?” Hanzo asked, intrigued in spite of himself.

Jesse nodded eagerly. “So...well, she’s...shy.”

“Shy?” Hanzo’s eyebrows went up.

“Says she isn’t comfortable going outside with it,” Jesse began. “It’s a bit hard to understand—for me anyway—but she gets all flustered and stuff if I want her to dress up and take it outside. Even like to a movie. She flushes and says she doesn’t look good enough or something.”

Hanzo sighed and closed his eyes. What had Jesse done now? Opening his eyes slowly, he whispered, “And what am I supposed to do?”

Jesse grinned. “Can you work your mojo? Just one more time?” The big man scratched his scruffy whiskers. “I won’t ask again—cross my heart.”

Hanzo puffed out an exasperated breath of disbelief. When was the overgrown boy going to realize he didn’t want it to be “just one more time”? He looked at the other man, crossing his arms thoughtfully. The big, scruffy man probably had no idea. It was on the tip of his tongue to retreat before he did something foolish—but the thought of you perhaps becoming scared or panicking made him nod his head. “Very well.”

“You will?” Jesse grinned widely. He smacked the archer on the back. “Can we do it tonight?”

Hanzo rolled his eyes and nodded. “Tonight.”

“You got any plans?” Jesse asked suddenly. Hanzo shook his head. “We’ll go get drinks then.”

“Some place quiet enough that you can hear me,” Hanzo snorted. He knew that Jesse favored wild bars and places that blasted country music. Hardly the kind of venue where quiet voices could be heard. Hanzo frowned—were you restless or was it a matter of not hearing whatever Jesse ordered?

That evening, the archer put on slacks and a crisp, white button down shirt with a jacket. Whenever he ended up, he should be able to blend in. Cursing himself for being ten kinds of a fool, he arrived a good fifteen minutes early. Taking a steadying breath, he knocked.

Jesse answered the door with a grin on his face. “Great! You’re here.” This big man stepped aside. “C’mon in.”

Hanzo stepped inside, amused as always that the common courtesy of removing one’s shoes and having clean white socks was not a universal more. Instead, Jesse seemed to prefer to go about barefoot. Of course, when one’s footwear was an impossibly stiff leather boot with a ridiculous high heel, Hanzo supposed that barefoot—though crude—was a necessary improvement. He smirked at the eager face of the American. “Good evening.”

Jesse nodded, “Glad you could make it.”

Hanzo opened his mouth to reply politely, but you burst out at that moment. He stared at your smiling mouth for a moment as you greeted him. A pleasant fizzy feeling tickled his blood as you haltingly knelt down in front of him.

“See buddy?” Jesse crowed. “Things really took the first time.”

Hanzo hummed as he went to stand over you. You blushed so prettily as you craned your neck to watch him. “Then why am I here, hime?”

You dropped your gaze with a blush. “I...It’s....”

“It’s what, hime?” You looked up at him guiltily but he interrupted in a deceptively soft tone. “Have you been disobedient?”

You turned red as Jesse answered, “It’s...an...awkward disagreement.”

“On what?”

“Well...,” Jesse hummed. He scratched his head thoughtfully. “She’s just shy about going out like I like.”

Hanzo stared down at you and you squirmed as his disapproval poured over you. “So you have been disobedient.” You swallowed heavily and nodded. “Have you been corrected? Disciplined?”

Jesse added, “Well, I.... That is...not....”

Hanzo gave the cowboy an exasperated glower. “And that would be a no.” A pause. “I have told you that you must be firm. Anything else will only confuse your pet.”

Hanzo waited and watched as Jesse turned red before staring down at you. “Go dress as you have been ordered.”

You let out a soft moan and bolted. Hanzo said nothing, only waited silently as the sounds of drawers and cabinets filled the space. He crossed his muscular arms as you finally re-emerged.

You had nothing against Jesse’s chosen outfit, per se—only wearing it out of the apartment. Aside from the obligatory spindly heels, you were wearing lacy thigh high hose that was held up by a frilly garter belt under the delicate panties. The corset top was red satin covered with black lace and edged with ruffles of more black lace. The satiny skirt was only down to your mid-thigh and layers of wide ruffles went from your waist to the hem.

Hanzo snapped and pointed to the leather covered foot-stool. Unsteadily, you wobbled over and fidgeted to try and take the high step up in your heels. Without blinking, Hanzo took hold of your hand to steady you as you stepped up. You rolled to put most of your weight on your toes rather than the sharply pointed heels.

“Stand as still as you can,” Hanzo commanded softly. You nodded and settled as best you could. “Put one hand on my shoulder for balance.”

You whimpered gratefully and put a hand on his steady, muscular shoulder. You were about to say something, but could only let out a short, startled sound before you felt his fingers on your shoes.

He started from the bottom of your shoes. He slid his fingers along the arching sole, stroking the shaped leather. Next, he gently pushed the tip of his pinkie under the strap across your toes, tugging it gently before stroking your foot up to your ankle where he stroked the thin ribbon ties.

“I do not approve,” he said finally, thumping the heel with his finger and tugging it gently. “The heel is a bit loose.” He glanced up at you. “Replace them.”

You nodded and held his hand as you stepped down. Darting to the bedroom, you grabbed another pair of heels and brought them to the archer. He tugged the heels, tested the straps and nodded. “Better.”

You pulled them on and fastened them. Hanzo walked around you, tugging your skirt a fraction of an inch here and there to make it straighter around you. He stepped behind you and you felt his warm fingers tracing the top of the corset. “Let us see,” was all he said. You whimpered, looking over your shoulder. “Settle down, koneko.”

You whimpered again nervously. His fingers stroked up and down the laces slowly and you took a deep breath in and out. You hadn’t forgotten all the lessons he had taught you and Jesse had constantly reinforced the relaxed touch. You frowned for a moment, feeling tugging behind you.

The corset suddenly gaped and you squealed in surprise. Crossing your arms over your chest, you looked at the archer in surprise. Unconcerned, he pulled on the heavy laces, tightening and adjusting the fit around you. Tighter than you had laced it, you were surprised as his adjustments made your breasts seem extra full at the top.

He came back in front of you, staring down with a smirk on his face. “That is...better.” He slid a thick finger in the top, testing the tight fit. It didn’t feel too tight in his opinion and he nodded. “I believe that you should also fetch a light jacket. It is cool outside.”

Jesse chuckled softly as you slid timidly to get a light coat. The silky blue jacket was the closest thing you could find that was even close to what you were wearing. Hanzo only watched as you slid it on, his face blank.

“Come,” all the Japanese man said.

They led you to a new club. You stumbled a bit, watching as a beautifully dressed woman in a skin-tight bandage dress was led in by someone who looked like a movie star from a country-western soap-opera. Your face went pale and you balked, slamming into Jesse as he walked behind you.

“Hey now!” Jesse yelped, narrowly avoiding your heels stabbing his toes. “What’s wrong?”

Hanzo took in a breath and looked around. His eyes narrowed as he saw the girl twirling on the arm of her escort as the bouncer opened the door for her. He sighed and nodded, looking in your eyes.

“Relax, koneko,” he smiled. He pulled you off the sidewalk to a shadowed patch of ground. He stood behind you and took a deep breath. His hands wrapped around your wrists gently and he breathed in your ear. “Deep breaths. My hands go up and you inhale. My hands go down and you exhale.”

You nodded jerkily. With a soft whine, you shuddered as his hands loosely curled around your wrists and arms, dragging a band of warmth up to your shoulders. After a moment, his hands drug down the silky fabric of your jacket. You let out your shuddering breath. He let his breath sigh past your ear as he brought his hands up to your shoulder again. Your breath sucked in and your eyes closed as you felt yourself slide away from your panic. A small hope bloomed that maybe the archer would change his mind and everyone could go home.

“Good koneko,” he praised softy. “Relax.” He paused thoughtfully. “Three more times and we will go back to the sidewalk.”

You let out a whine and shook your head. “I...I can’t!”

Jesse let out an impatient breath. “Darlin’—not that again.”

Hanzo glared impatiently at the cowboy. Turning back to you, he said patiently, “Listen to me.” You let out a whimper. “Deep breaths.”

You nodded slowly as his fingers ran from your wrist to your neck. He leaned close—so close you could feel the heat from his body. His breath whispered in your ear. “Koneko, quietly...tell me what you’re feeling.”

You whimpered softly. “I.... Did you see her? She looked amazing.” He nodded, his skin brushing behind you and your cheeks heated up. “I don’t look anything like that.”

“No,” he whispered. “But you are still beautiful as you are.” You were going to protest, but you heard him let out a harsh noise. “And you will be fine.”

You shook your head, weaving on your heels. Your breath caught and you felt a sob come up. You had never looked like that where all the makeup and outfit and everything worked. “But I’m...not like that. All glamorous and beautiful.”

Hanzo nodded silently. “Breathe, koneko. Just breathe.”

Jesse sputtered behind both of you. “But this is ridiculous! You’re beautiful just like you are.” He spun on one heel and sighed. “See Han? This is what I mean.”

“Jesse—enough.” Hanzo trailed his fingers up from your wrist to your neck. Your breath skittered in. “You are fine.” You opened your mouth and he shook his head, tapping the back of your other hand. “We will both be there.” Another tap hit your hand as he kept directing your breathing. “You will be safe.”

You kept your eyes closed, your breath slowly sliding in and out. The steady pace made your mind fuzzy—almost like you had finished a drink or two. Your brain dropped to your feet and you felt yourself weaving slightly. His free hand went to your throat and gripped lightly.

You let out a soft moan that vibrated under his fingers. Hanzo let his breath sigh in and out, brushing your hair in the slow and steady rhythm of his fingers. You looked dizzily at Jesse, smiling weakly as his mouth fell open and he stared at you in slightly amused understanding.

Hanzo smirked at the cowboy. “We must first establish control. This is done by first setting boundaries.” McCree nodded slowly, understanding and curiosity blooming on his face. Hanzo nodded in return. “I will expect you to watch and learn.”

He turned back to you. “You have naturally high spirits, koneko.” You let out a whine. “We will go to this place and you will obey us both.” You nodded slowly with a soft whine. “You will be safe—we will both be watching you.” The archer pulled a small device from his pocket, showing it to you. “If necessary, we will be testing your breath to ensure that you are not in danger. We will taste each drink and each food to ensure that nothing will harm you.” He took another deep breath and tapped your hand again. “We will both be here to make sure you are safe.”

Your eyes went wide to stare at nothing as he kept breathing behind you. You shivered—those types of threats had lingered in the back of your mind every time that you went out, but to hear him speak so cooly about foiling them made them seem more like shadows rather than fears.

“I will expect you to obey,” Hanzo insisted. “We will dance, eat and drink. You will do each of these as we command and without protest.” His hand continued tracing the length of your arm. “And we will punish you if you do not.” He paused. “If your behavior becomes unruly, then we will not hesitate to take you home to punish you more severely there.”

You let out a frightened squeal. While last time you had fared well, you truly didn’t want to press your luck. Surprisingly, he tapped the back of your hand again.

“On the other hand, obey well, and we will reward you.” He tapped your hand again. “Your actions will choose your outcome, pet, so choose wisely.”

Jesse’s impatient snort was distant as you thought about your choices. Finally the cowboy asked, “What’s all the tapping an’ stuff?”

Hanzo sighed patiently behind you. Looking over his shoulder he replied, “The long strokes are to encourage deep, even breathing and relaxation. However, in this case, she must be alert and not drifting mentally. Each time it is something specific for her to remember, I tap gently to bring her mind to me.” Jesse nodded uncertainly. “I will do it inside as well—when I specifically want her to pay attention. It also helps break up any patterns of runaway thoughts—where she cannot help but make herself more and more alarmed.”

Jesse looked quizzically at him. Hanzo kept breathing deeply, his breath flowing past your ear in a long, even rhythm. You took in a deep breath to match his own, a small whine drifting out. You were still in the dizzy realm of deep breathing—barely aware as Jesse approached from the side and copied the archer’s movements up and down your other arm.

“You are ready,” Hanzo muttered softly. His fingers stopped at your shoulder to trace lightly around your throat. “Remember always that a pet’s first duty is obedience.” You nodded slightly, your breath quickening at his light touch. “Now let us go in.”

In a daze, you walked with the men to the brightly lit entrance. The bouncer—a huge man that seemed to be as big as Winston—nodded and muttered the door charge. Hanzo only stared as Jesse pulled out his worn leather wallet to pay. Once inside the darker interior, you followed the men with silent questions on your face.

The pleasant hostess inside smiled as she welcomed you all. Hanzo stood proudly and took out his wallet. “We would like a private table—bottle service—please,” he asked in a tone that rang with pride and dominance as much as his exotic accent.

Even the hostess was entranced, leaning closer and hugging her arms closer to herself to make her breasts seem fuller. “A private table?”

“And bottle service,” Hanzo replied in that same regal tone. You blinked, half expecting yakuza henchmen to come out bowing and scraping as he took that stance, that tone. “A bottle of rye and a bottle of Suntory Hibiki.”

The hostess nodded towards him eagerly. “Oh...uhh.... Of course!” She picked up some of the plastic menus and a paper table tent with the night’s specials printed on it. “Hibiki....”

“And rye,” Hanzo added.

Once at the private table, the hostess gushed about the specials and presented the menus. You glared at her, feeling miffed and jealous as she danced around, cooing at Jesse and Hanzo both. Jesse smiled and thanked her in his barrel voiced drawl, while Hanzo nodded shortly and thanked her with a minimum of words. You said little, just nodded silently as she handed you the menu and promised that the bottles would be there soon. She cooed and winked at both men, shimmying and blushing and gushing in a fake accent that set your teeth on edge. As she left, you glared at her gliding away in her short skirt and high heels.

You were startled as you felt a gentle tap on the back of your hand. Hanzo looked sternly at you and tapped you again. “You have no reason to be jealous, koneko,” he whispered in your ear. His fingers traced up and down again. “You have us both next to you while she has no one.”

You sucked in a deep breath and shuddered, nodding slightly as you did—for a moment—pity her. “I...I suppose.”

“It is unbecoming of you to be jealous,” Hanzo added in the same hushed tone. “You are expected to be a lady, and to do your owner and your owner’s guest honor by your manner and mien.”

You nodded, glancing over at Jesse. The cowboy smirked, leaning back in his chair lazily. “I’d do what he says, little girl.” He cracked you a smile. “I’d hate to see you get in trouble this early.”

Biting your lip, you sat back, looking at the festively decorated bar and the dance floor with its feverishly flashing lights. Your private waitress sauntered up with an ice bucket and tray of various things—a crystal cup of orange slices and red cherries, a decanter of orange juice and another of cranberry juice, snowy napkins and thin plastic stirrers. She set everything up on the table with a brilliant smile before vanishing again. She reappeared shortly, holding up each bottle by the bottoms with a small flashlight in each palm so that the dark amber bottles lit up in the dim light of the club.

The bubbly waitress popped open each bottle and set them down. “Would you like to get some food?”

Jesse reached and poured himself a glass of rye before glancing at you and Hanzo. “I’m good, but whatever y’all want.”

Hanzo looked at her and said, “Give us ten minutes.”

She cocked her head, her smile still at its artificial megawatt brilliance. She flushed as she leaned closer and listened to the archer’s light accent. “O-o-of course.”

Hanzo nodded regally, turning his attention to the small menu. He glanced at you for a moment, and then to Jesse. “Have you any recommendations?”

Jesse shrugged. “Whatever. I like the potato skins and the wings.”

Hanzo looked at you and then again at the menu. “We will also get the vegetable and hummus tray.” He signaled and the waitress appeared in a split moment, bubbling and gushing and flaunting her every curve. “An order of the potato skins, an order of your hot wings, an order of your baked wings with lemon pepper seasoning and an order of your hummus with vegetables and pita.” He glanced up and then down again. “And bring a carafe of water with lemon slices.”

“Oh, of course sir!” She smiled and tapped the pad with her immaculately painted nails while she smirked at Hanzo. “Would there be anything else?”

He shook his head and waved the menu at her. “We will let you know.” He glanced at the DJ booth where a bony man with huge earphones was nodding in time with his scratching and track sampling. “Tell him to play something...smooth soon.”

“Oh, Tom? He plays three dance tracks and then does a slow track. Then three more dance tracks and then two slow tracks.” She blushed. “But I’ll see if he can throw in one just for you.” She put her pad away and smirked at Jesse. “And you, handsome cowboy? Can I get anything for you?”

He grinned and poured himself a generous glass of rye. “Naw, darlin’.” He grinned at you. “Got what I want already.”

She glanced at you and then Jesse again and nodded to herself with a purring smile. “Oh...of course.” She grinned at Hanzo with a predatory lilt in her eyes. “Wouldn’t want you to be lonely.”

“Just our order please,” he sniffed as he put a possessive hand on your knee. “And some music suitable for dancing.”

She blinked in surprise and melted away into the crowd. Hanzo nodded at her back, pouring himself a bit more alcohol in one of the glasses. He glanced towards you with a smile. With a flourish, he swirled the alcohol in glass. “Have you ever had Hibiki, pet?”

You shook your head nervously. Most of the time, Jesse’s drinks were strong and bitter and you rarely wanted to try them. The idea of being drunk also made you very nervous. Who knew what would happen then? Your gaze went to the burly men sitting at tables and at the bar. Just looking at them made you nervous.

Hanzo tapped the back of your hand. “Come back to us, pet.”

You jerked a little and looked at him blankly. “Oh...yeah.” You flushed. “Sorry.”

The music shifted to a slightly slower song. Hanzo nodded as the waitress drifted closer with the carafe of water. Setting down his whiskey, he poured you a drink of water. “Drink it all.”

You drank it eagerly, the water refreshing and soothing. He nodded and took the tumbler from you to set it aside. “Now, pet,” he smiled as he gestured towards Jesse. “Why not enjoy ourselves and dance a bit while we wait for our order?”

You glanced up nervously at Jesse and he grinned. The cowboy crooked his finger and you teetered to your feet. Your shoes made you wobble uncertainly as Jesse stood and led you to the frantically flashing lights of the dance area. The dancers lined up behind you and began to stomp in time. You jerked and lurched, trying to figure out the steps.

You bit your lip as Jesse slid smoothly into the rhythm. This was impossible—especially in your heels. You growled and stumbled through the dance. You did the quarter turn, glad to finally have someone in front of you—a narrowly built older woman who apparently just loved to dance—and managed to get some of the steps in order as you watched her.

Someone slid behind you and you mentally wished them luck. There was a complicated series of two steps forward, a hop back and then a slide forward again with a kick. You took in a breath and did the next quarter turn, to see Jesse there. He knew the dance well, it seemed, and was able to go through the whole sequence in his boots without breaking a sweat.

Another dancer grinned at him as she waggled her hips in front of him as you did the slide to the right and then to the left. Your eyes narrowed as Jesse tipped his hat towards her and she smiled back at him. Then you felt a brush on the back of your hand.

You whirled to scowl at the person who bumped you, and you saw Hanzo stumbling through the steps as much as you were. He offered you a thin grin as he stumbled through the next bar. Thankfully, you were almost done and as soon as the song ended, you stumbled off the floor.

Hanzo was right behind you, and had hold of your shoulders before you reached the table. His one hand slid down from your shoulder to your wrist and back in a slow and steady pace. Instantly, your breath flowed gently out. He raised his hand and you took in a slow breath.

“Koneko,” he breathed into your ear. “You are in a poor mood and need to improve it.”

“What?!” you hissed.

“You are in a poor mood.” He pulled you back to let the waitress come through with her heavy tray. His other hand came up to circle your neck gently. “Wait, koneko.”

The waitress was still fiddling with the plates of food, bent over the table with her tight, thin skirt riding up. Jesse came up, smiling and holding a small card in his hand. “Hey....” He stared at the girl and then looked back up at you. “The food’s here.”

Hanzo nodded solemnly with a sideways glance as the waitress stood and shimmied a little too close to the cowboy. Jesse smiled and sat down slowly, watching you and the archer with a distinctly cat-like grin.

You were shaking a little as Hanzo hummed softly in your ear. You looked up at Jesse with worry on your face and he only shrugged and sipped his drink. The archer tapped the back of your hand and you jerked, looking nervously over your shoulder.

“Koneko,” he whispered in your ear, “you need to be punished.”

“W-w-why?!” you whimpered. “What?!”

His hand rippled around your sensitive neck. “You have been in a foul temper and are not showing that you are glad to be here with your owner. That you are honored to be out with your owner and his guest.”

You shivered, despite the warmth of the club. “I-I-I...I’m sorry.” You let out another sound. “I’m...not used to dancing.”

“Obviously,” he said. “You need practice.” You nodded hopefully. “But the practice is in the doing.”

“Baby...,” Jesse said. “Listen to Han.”

The archer nodded behind you. “I will give your punishment.” His hand released your neck and the other hand stroked up and down your arm. You sucked in a nervous breath and let it out slowly. “Go to the restroom and take off your panties—.”

“Hey!” grumbled Jesse.

“—Take them off and put them into your hand.” You moaned softly as he snorted in your ear. One hand cupped your bottom. “Bring them back to me.”

You flushed angrily and stalked through the crowd. There was a line—of course—and it felt like it took forever to get into a stall. Teetering and thumping against the walls, you managed to slide down the tiny panties. You scooped them up and balled them into a tiny ball in your fist.

Teetering on your heels, you slid out with your cheeks flaming. A neatly suited man grinned at you and you hid your hands against your sides and tried to slide past him. He smirked and looked down at your fists and the little trace of lace between your fingers.

“Hey, beautiful,” he murmured. “What have you got there?”

“Nothing!” Your whole face was tomato red and you backed down the hallway. “Just...hey...uhh...excuse me.”

He held up his hands, his eyes glinting. “There no need for excuses, baby.” He took a step or two closer. “Just want to get you a drink.”

“No.”

He put his hand on the wall above your head. “Just one little drink, baby. Just want to get to know you.”

You flushed and pulled back, scowling at the foul alcohol scent coming from him. “Just...no.”

Jesse’s angry voice floated in the narrow hallway behind the strange man. “I think the lady said, ‘no’.”

The suited man straightened up slightly, looking over his shoulder at the tall cowboy. “Go get your own girl, man.” He stared down at you with a predatory smile. “We were just getting to know each other.”

You were about to scream when Jesse grabbed his shoulder. Yanking it, he spun the man around and pushed him down the hall. “Just remember she said ‘no’.” He slid to stand between you and the stranger. “And I’m telling you ‘no’, too.”

“Hey man—don’t blow a gasket!” The slickly suited man began to back away down the hallway. “I don’t want any trouble.”

You looked around the massive and angry cowboy to see the strange man suddenly stumble forward. Hanzo stood in the hallway with his arms crossed over his chest. He stared down at the guy in his now rumpled suit. Glowering down his nose, he snapped, “Then do not start any trouble.”

The guy looked between Jesse and Hanzo nervously and scrambled to the side of the hall. He gaped at you, opening and closing his mouth without saying anything. Then he scrambled out past the Japanese man. Hanzo’s fist grabbed his shirt in a flash, dragging him back in front of him and scowling in his face. The archer’s eyes and face screamed death-and-destruction as he stared down at him.

“The lady told you ‘no’.” He glared down his nose in a terrifying way, as though it wouldn’t matter in the slightest if the man was utterly destroyed right there. “You are not to bother her or any other woman. Am I making myself clear?” The guy glanced back over at Jesse who cracked his knuckles. “We would take...offense if you repeat this error.”

Both of the men stepped closer and the other guy flinched. He gawked between them, staring fearfully at first one and then the other. “Hey...no harm done, right?” He glanced around the cowboy to you. “No harm done, lady. Right? Just talk—right?!”

Jesse turned to wrap an arm around you. “Well...we’d hate to be wrong about you. Since you like to corner ladies outside the restroom, huh?”

The man scrambled wildly and began kicking and struggling. Hanzo did not move an inch, forcing the man to crawl around him like an animal. Jesse watched him leave and then pulled you out from behind him.

“Darling, come on out,” he sighed. You went to stand between them, moving against the wall. “It’s a good thing we followed you when we did.” You nodded slowly, sinking against the massive cowboy’s frame. He crooned softly, stroking your hair gently. “We’ll go on and boogie out of here.”

Hanzo stood close at your back. “We will go back to our table.” He stroked your arm up and down slowly, nodding slowly as you took in a deep breath. “Come, koneko.”

Hanzo led you back to the table. He took the wadded up panties and slid them in his pocket, eased you into the chair between him and Jesse and then snapped his fingers. The waitress reappeared with her pad. He only glanced up at her, continually stroking your arm up and down slowly and watching as your pants slowly smoothed and became even deeper breaths. “Bring us a glass of wine.” She nodded. “Red. Now.”

He waved her away, watching you closely. “Now, koneko. Are you well?” You nodded slowly. “You are not hurt?”

You shook your head, gratefully accepting the glass of wine when the waitress appeared again. You sipped it, staring at the flickering lights through the burgundy colored liquid. Another sip and you thought that you might be steady again.

“Darlin’, you okay?” Jesse patted your shoulder and nudged the plate of lemon pepper wings towards you. “You need anything else?”

You shook your head again, leaning against him. “Just...just want to sit for a moment.”

He purred softly in your ear. “It’s okay, darling.”

Hanzo nodded. He glanced at Jesse and kept his steady rhythm of sliding his hand up and down. “It is best for a scared pet to simply breathe. In. Out. In. Out.” You nodded, breathing and giving him the glass when he reached for it. “Breathing in and out, pet. Just in and out.” He tapped your hand. “You are safe.”

You nodded slowly, your other hand stroking Jesse’s arm in an unconscious echo of the archer’s rhythm. Just breathing in and out helped, and you felt very safe between the two muscular men. You glanced curiously at the dance floor, watching couples sway and twirl under the pulsing lights. For a moment, you felt bitter as you saw that beautiful woman turn on the arm of someone. Why did she feel so safe and you didn’t?

“Koneko,” Hanzo called softly, tapping your hand again. “Let us try again.”

You looked over at him and then the dance floor. “Uhh....”

He grinned and took your hand. “Come with me, koneko.” He cocked his head. “We will try again.”

You looked up at Jesse, who grinned and nodded to you. Reluctantly, you followed him and he took your hand as you got to the edge of the floor. He put his arm loosely around your waist and held your hand. You stood closer to him, burying your flushing face in the shifting shadows around him. He swayed gently back and forth, not doing much more than leaning from one side to the other.

The song was slow and soothing, a crooning ballad of heartbreak. The lights slid back and forth slowly in time to the tapping of the snare drum. His thumb slid back and forth slowly, echoing his slow breathing.

“Breathing, pet,” he whispered in your ear. “Breathe in and out. Left and right. Left and right.”

You couldn’t help but giggle nervously. “Yin and yang?”

He smirked—a shadow across his face. “Perhaps.” His thumb slid up and you went to the left. His thumb went down and you went to the right. He sighed, glancing around and nodding slightly towards Jesse. His voice went softer and seemed to be wistful as he whispered into your hair. “But who is who, I wonder...?”

You paused and looked up at him. “‘Who is who?’”

He froze, looking at you for a moment. “What?”

You giggled again, looking up at him. “You said it. Not me.” He glanced nervously at Jesse then down at you. Slowly, he resumed his swaying, nodding at nothing. Your voice took a wistful note. “But...sometimes....”

He sighed. “Do not say it.” He puffed out a breath. “Just...breathe.” You both finished the song, swaying slowly. “Just breathe, koneko.” He smirked and whispered in your ear, “I will send you out to dance with Jesse next.”

You whined a little, but the song ended nonetheless. Hanzo gave you a brilliant smirk and led you back to the table. You wolfed down some of the wings and a bit of the hummus and vegetables, along with finishing your wine so that it buzzed in your blood. You giggled and accepted the glass of water that Jesse put into your hand.

He grinned. “Yeah...get a little something to drink and then we’ll hit the next song.”

Hanzo nodded thoughtfully, taking the smallest sip of his whiskey. “I believe that things will go better, Jesse, if you put her in the middle of the group so that she can see someone and follow their steps, rather than throwing her in front.” The cowboy nodded, grinning up at you and you grinned back. “And keep an eye on her surroundings.”

The next dance was smoother as you followed the steps from the middle of the crowd. It wasn’t too hard—a simple mix of kicks, steps, slides and then a quarter turn. Jesse was right next to you, his moves a little smoother and more fluid. You felt more confident with someone to follow. It was a lot smoother now and with the pattern firmly repeated over and over, you even added a bit of a shimmy of your own. Then you added smirking twist to the slide.

At the end of the dance, you were beside Jesse. He flashed you a wide smile and dropped his arm over your shoulder. “You’re a natural, darlin’.”

You felt your heart leap and let him turn you around before leading you to the table. You slid around the archer and went to your seat. The food seemed more delicious and you wolfed down another few wings and more of the hummus. You reached for the wine glass, only to have Hanzo take it from you and put a water glass in your hand.

“Drink deeply, koneko,” he muttered. “It will not help to become—.”

Jesse interrupted, “Drunk.”

Hanzo scowled at the cowboy and rolled his eyes. “Dehydrated.” He nudged the cold water glass. “A pleasant buzz is good, but being drunk is both embarrassing to you and to us.” He gestured towards a weaving and wobbling stick-thin man as he stumbled along the dance floor. As you watched, you saw him approach another shadowy figure and flop on that one’s shoulder before slobbering something in his ear. “You would not want to do that.”

You shivered at his low tone. “N-n-no. Of course not.”

He grinned, leaning closer to you. His hand began to slide up and down your arm. “I am glad that you understand.” He leaned even closer to tap your hand and whisper in your ear. “Does it arouse you that you are naked beneath your skirt?”

You gasped and blushed. You hadn’t thought about it—but you were naked. Only your thin skirt was guarding your modesty and that had slid up as you had sat down. The skin of your ass and thighs slid against the leathery upholstery of the chair. That made you wet. You flushed again, staring at him with your mouth open slightly. He smirked and pulled away, picking up his whiskey and sitting back to watch the dance floor.

Hanzo smirked and let you sit there for a dance, then gestured again. A lively tune came on and you went out to the floor without protest. Jesse took you in the middle of the floor again, settling right beside you as the dance began. It was considerably easier in the middle of the crowd, following other as they did the steps. The next dance was a couples dance and Jesse took care to explain the steps.

His hands drifted to your waist as he spun you around. Then they slid down your skirt. You smirked to see the other woman blanch as his fingertips traced just under the hem of your skirt. She frowned bitterly, glancing up at your cowboy and then back down at you just in time to see him pull you close to his body. Jesse noticed—of course he did. As soon as you were both facing each other, he did it again and smirked down at you. His lips brushed you as his fingers traced the skin of your leg. He slid long caresses down your spine, along your thighs, soft kisses—every time she could see it. The possessive hold and casual kisses began to make you tremble as he brought you right to the line between flirtation and whatever was beyond it.

Fuck it was hot.

The song ended. Jesse and you clapped politely like everyone else in the flashing lights. Then he took you back to the table so that you could eat some more of the food and finish the drinks.

Hanzo offered you a sip of his whiskey, smirking as you took little kitten sips of the strong drink. He didn’t let you take too much, only enough to get a real taste of the flavor, then he gave you your water. Then, with a gesture, he pulled you in close.

“So does it arouse you that you are bare?” he asked.

Jesse grinned, looking with wide-eyed curiosity at you. “Well, darlin’?”

You flushed and took up the glass of water. “I....”

“Do not lie, pet,” Hanzo hissed smugly. “I was watching you.” He pointed to the dance floor. “I was watching you dance. I know how you move.”

Jesse chuckled as you ducked your head. Finally, you stammered out, “I...I....”

“Ya liked it, darlin’,” Jesse grinned. He nodded at the archer. “An’ there’s no use tellin’ otherwise.” You let out a grunt and Jesse let out a snort. “Darlin’...I’m just about done in.” He held out his hand. “One more dance?”

You nodded and were just getting ready to stand when Hanzo leaned over to you one more time. “Dance like you do when you are alone.”

You blinked and he smirked again and nodded. His cat like grin was infectious and you felt it on your face as you looked at Jesse. The cowboy’s face lit up as you sauntered over to him. He took your hand again and you both walked to the flashing and flickering lights as they lit up the floor.

He started to sway and you fell into his pace. He pulled you into a gentle turn and you saw a strobe hit the archer’s face. He leaned back and grinned at you. You saw him mouth the word “Dance” and then the light on his face dimmed until he was another dark silhouette in the crowd.

You glanced up at Jesse and whirled around on your own. Leaning back against him, you did dance. Sliding up against him as if you were alone, you did dance. You danced for Jesse—the slow, sensual dancing that he adored. You danced for Hanzo, too—showing him the erotic dancing that no one else ever saw except for Jesse. You danced for yourself most of all—to show everyone how it was all done.

You were invincible for that moment. The slow dance made both of them stare at you. It was a rush, to move slowly around and drag your body around the cowboy. He grinned as he dipped you, bending you over his arm and you took a deep breath to push your breasts into his scruffy face. He only grinned at you, swinging you up and spinning you on your toes.

Jesse laughed in your ear. “You sure are sexy when you get going.” You laughed at his smile. “And if I’d known getting you out of your panties here would have helped, I would have done it sooner.”

You giggled, pulling your leg up high enough to almost ride on his hip. He was excited too—you could feel the outline of his cock through his heavy jeans. You slid your leg slowly down and twirled on your toes. Playfully, you pulled up your skirt a bit to rub the very top of your thighs against his jeans. He smiled, letting his hand drift down between you to stroke the hem of your skirt and the hot skin underneath. You smiled to yourself, blushing as you finally noticed a few of the other dancers staring at you as you twisted erotically around him again.

The dance ended and you sighed to feel how every muscle was as hard as his cock. Jesse smirked down at you and pulled you close. “Let’s go home, darling.” You nodded happily. “We’ll pick up Hanzo and head out.”

When you managed to get through the crowd to the table again, you saw the waitress scooping up the napkins and collecting glasses. She turned as you came up. “Hey, there.” She snagged the wine glass and added it to her tray. “Your friend paid the bill and went out back to smoke.” She pointed to a corner of the bar. “You can pick up your two bottles there.”

You followed Jesse and picked up the bottles in their plain brown wrapping. The bar shrink-wrapped the bottles so that they could be brought home. Holding the paper bags, you walked out with him. Following the slight haze and another couple who was just pulling out their cigarettes, you found Hanzo around the side of the building in a shady spot.

“You coming, compadre?” Jesse drawled. “We’re heading back.”

Hanzo took a deep puff and watched you. “I’ll catch up,” he smirked, glancing at you. “You seem to be busy.”

“You sure?” the cowboy asked again.

Hanzo nodded, looking at you. “I will be fine.” He gestured lamely at the taxis that were nearby. “Go on.”

The archer watched you leave. The way you sauntered away from club made him ache. He loved watching you dance. He loved the way that you pranced in your heels. He could watch you for hours as you danced and twirled. Once you relaxed, you were beautiful as you moved. He sighed heavily as you disappeared around the building with the cowboy on your way to the parking lot.

He took a taxi to another club so that he could get lost in another crowd as the live quartet played blues and jazz. He leaned against a rail with an obligatory drink, watching the musicians as they played a slow and soothing set. Women—attached and alone—swirled around slowly like they were on a carousel and he ignored all of them and their predatory stares. He was not interested in company tonight.

He wanted to show you this place, with its retro big-band era feel. He wanted to see you in a long dress with the long slit going up to your thigh and looking like a movie star. He wanted to see you leaning against the drink rail with a drink in your hand and that slow and relaxed smile on your face. He wanted to see you slow dance in cheeky kitten heels and with your hair swept back from your face. He wanted to hear your laugh, smell your perfume, as you rode with him and listened to the saxophone weep its joys and sorrows to the beat of the snare drum. He wanted to give you fizzy drinks in crystal flutes and to watch you sip them. He wanted to have you dance just like that with him, for him and only for him. He wanted to take you to his room and push your dress off your body slowly before taking you to his bed and reveling in your beauty. 

He wanted too much. He knew it in every fiber of his being that what he wanted was not his to want and he wanted too much. He wanted you so badly that he felt like he was glowing with it, even in this shadowed place. He drank his whiskey, wanting it to dull his senses and dull his memories until he could lock them away again under his skin. He got another, leaning close to the waitress so that her cloyingly strong perfume would chase your scent away. He guzzled the whiskey with no thought to its fine bouquet of smooth flavors.

He wanted too much. He was but a few steps away from challenging the cowboy. He was inches from defying their friendship, crushing their camaraderie, to claim you as his own. He wanted you and could not have you. In his whiskey driven mood, he even wanted to be the Shimada oyabun again so that he could command millions to buy or steal you and then hide you deep in Hanamura for his pleasure as a sexual pet who he could spoil and indulge. But you were not his, could not be his—not like that. You belonged to the cowboy and he could only bury his want in alcohol and the sad wail of the saxophone.


	3. Chapter 3

Hanzo stared at Jesse skeptically again. “You want...what?” He held up his hand. “What are you trying to do?”

Jesse grinned, taking another sip of whiskey and glancing nervously around the bar. He shrugged. “So this is her idea—.” Hanzo snorted in disbelief. “Well, it was.”

Hanzo sighed and stared down at his drink. “You are very strange.”

“And you enjoyed yourself last time.” Jesse smirked knowingly. “I do remember that.” He leaned back a bit and shrugged comfortably. “You were smiling way too much when you left last time.”

Hanzo rolled his eyes, glancing over his shoulder at a nicely shaped woman. He really didn’t want to look at her, but he didn’t want Jesse to see the dark blush on his cheeks either. He had been smiling too much. He had enjoyed himself very much—far much for his own peace of mind—but there was no reason for the cowboy to rub it in.

“So what do you want propose?” The archer sighed, feeling like he was standing on a mud covered slope. “What are you thinking about doing?”

Jesse grinned widely. “She is doing this as a birthday gift to me.”

“I am sure she is,” muttered Hanzo sourly.

“Why don’t we call her?” Jesse suggested, setting his phone on the table. “If she agrees and says it’s her idea, then you buy the next round.”

Hanzo’s hands were sweating as he picked up the phone and stepped outside the bar to make the call. He found your number and waited for you to pick up.

“Hey, Jesse. How is the meeting going?”

Hanzo cleared his throat nervously. “It’s me.” He coughed. “Hanzo.”

“Hey!” Your voice went high and happy. “Has Jesse talked to you?”

“Ahh...yes.” His cheeks went red again. “He...said that...you.... His birthday?”

“Uhh...yes.” He smiled as he heard your voice go soft. “He...he likes watching. Liked watching us...that night. So—for his birthday—I thought we could...maybe...do a scene. For him, for his birthday.”

Hanzo mentally totted up the cost of the next round of drinks. Jesse was prone to ordering outrageously expensive alcohol—when he wasn’t paying. Still, he couldn’t help his slide down this slope. As soon as he had spoken to you, he knew he was going to do this. “Yes.”

“You will?!” You let out an excited whoop. “Thank you so much! I can’t wait! This is going to be great.” You let out another excited sound. “See you soon.”

Hanzo blinked in surprise, staring at the phone. The phone remained mutely dark as he stood there. Nothing short of another call was going to make it light up again. He groaned in his head and went back in, staring at the phone.

Jesse was grinning like a cat as he came back to the table. Hanzo flinched to see a whole bottle of 50 year old Hibiki whiskey on the table with two crystal glasses. The American’s grin never faded as he took the phone. Hanzo took a deep breath and opened the bottle and poured two shots in the cups.

The cowboy picked up his glass and tilted towards the other man. “Happy birthday to me.”

Hanzo groaned as he stared into his drink. The amber liquid offered him no answers—at least none that the blood rushing in his veins wanted to hear. “So...what is it you want?”

Jesse took a long sip of his drink. Hanzo scowled and finally took a swallow of the drink, completely missing the smoky and complex flavors. He took another swallow, feeling it rush and settle into his mind. Finally, he blinked slowly and nodded. “What do you want?”

Finally Jesse had the grace to blush. “Well...this is my fantasy. To see her....” He coughed. “Well....”

Hanzo took an impatient breath. “Any time, McCree. But I do have plans for next April. And May.” McCree took another nervous sip. “I wanted to go see the cherry tree blossoms one more time.”

You were flushed and impatient as McCree got ready. This was such an intense fantasy for McCree and Hanzo was the only one you even came close to trusting with it. You were in your highest heels and a truly sexy pair of lacy thigh-high hose. Your dress was cheap—a whore’s or stripper’s slip dress in a thin material that seemed almost transparent with the lamp bright behind you. Your makeup was slutty—no doubt about it—with smoky eyes and bright glossy red lipstick. You even wore your long earrings and they jingled as you paced.

“You ready?” Jesse came out behind you, his brown eyes wide and uncertain. “We...we don’t have to do this.”

“I’m ready,” you blushed. He wore a stunningly crisp white shirt and a vest in a lovely pattern. His slacks—instead of jeans—were grey pinstripes and, of course, they were tucked into immaculate cowboy boots. He looked like a high-rolling gambler straight off a riverboat—especially with his cigarillo in his teeth. “You look...amazing.”

He flushed at the compliment and showed you the leather bag he was carrying. “I’m all ready. Got the car keys and my wallet.” His smile faded and he looked at you solemnly. “Now, kitten, I know that this is my fantasy and I know it’s my birthday, but if you wanna back out—you can.”

You shook your head. “I’m...excited.” You kissed him lightly on his stubbled cheek. “I can’t wait.”

Jesse helped you into a long trench coat and led you to the car. You looked like you were overly made up for the conservative coat, but respectable and...importantly, clothed. You poked through the leather bag and saw a pair of handcuffs, a couple of boxed decks of cards, a worn box of poker chips, two neatly folded sets of rope, and a small folded piece of wax paper.

“So...how does this work?” you asked in a small voice.

“We’re going to a hotel. Hanzo has already gotten a room and I have a room two doors down.” Jesse looked at you briefly, making a turn. “It’s all set up.”

He took you to the hotel—a grand affair in the middle of downtown. The first thing you noticed beyond the desk was an atrium with huge trees in it. There was a fountain and a few small candlelit tables where people were sitting with expensive drinks and chatting. You stared at them, suddenly uncomfortable as you saw a woman in obvious designer wear and a thick diamond necklace. She smirked as she took in your cheap jewelry, flicking her wrist to make her tennis bracelet twinkle. Then she looked up at McCree as he checked in. Her smile was predatory and brilliantly, artificially white as she gave him a sultry look. He ignored her, turning to smile down at you with a few fingers under your chin and a soft kiss to your forehead.

He pointedly handed you a keycard. “Come on, darlin’. I’ll show you the room.” He kissed your forehead. “I am so happy to be here with ya.” He kissed you again and picked up the large duffle bag that held your overnight things. “Thank you so much for coming here with me.”

You grinned like a maniac as Jesse put your hand in the crook of his arm and walked you right past the other woman as she gaped in shock. You rubbed it in, too—rubbing up against him as he draped his arm comfortably across your shoulders. You stopped to pick a small bit of dark thread from his immaculate white shirt and glance at her. She was still staring, her eyes wide and her mouth open like a dead fish’s as she watched Jesse gently lead you to the elevator.

The room he led you to was large and luxurious with a crisply made king sized bed, a handsome wooden desk and heavy chair. You stared at the cabinet with the large television over it as Jesse opened up one of the doors and showed you the mini-fridge. He set the half-empty bottle of Hibiki whiskey inside and pulled out a computer. He opened it up, turned it on and tapped a few keys. Waving you over, he showed you the screen.

You bit your lip as you stared at the computer. You saw a split view of another room. It must have been one of the really expensive corner suites because the screen showed another large bedroom with an empty king sized bed, corner shot of a jacuzzi in the extensive bathroom, and a sitting-area with a large table with three upholstered chairs around it. Hanzo sat at the head of the table with what appeared to be another deck of cards.

You stared at his grainy image on the screen. He was in a highly fashionable suit of his own, shuffling cards. He had discarded the suit coat and had rolled up his white sleeves so that you could see a dark smudge of his tattoo and the golden wristwatch around his wrist. He dealt three hands so fast it seemed like the camera could barely catch it. Then he scooped up the cards and shuffled again. His hair was half-pulled back in a ponytail with the long part in the back laying thick, black stripes on his shoulders.

“Wh-what?” Your eyes were shy and shocked as you watched him deal another hand. “Jesse...?”

“Well,” he smirked, “we thought it would be more...natural—organic—if we did it this way. Don’t worry. We’re on an encrypted channel and it’s just us and him. Just the two rooms.”

He draped an arm around your waist and caught your attention more seriously. “So, I will ask one more time—you sure you wanna do this?”

You smiled at him. “That’s like the tenth time you’ve asked.”

“And I’ll ask a hundred more times.” He shrugged shyly. “I think...you’re brave. This is a scary thing that I’m asking you to do. I want to be sure you are sure about doing it.”

You nodded, looking from him to the screen where Hanzo was dealing another round of cards. “I’m sure.”

“OK.” He grinned. “Then, I’m ready to go. Are you?”

You nodded slowly, peeling off the trench coat. In the large mirror, you looked like a cheap hooker. Jesse still looked like a high-roller, the kind of gambler who won and lost thousands on a turn of a single card and who always had a wild story to tell of the games, the whiskey and the riverboats. In a strange way, you both looked like a complete picture of a gambler and his latest riverboat queen.

He slung the strap of the leather pouch over his shoulder. Tucking your hand in his arm, he led you down the hall. He shot you a dazzling smile and knocked on the heavy door with its discrete brass plaque with the cursive etching saying ‘Presidential Suite’.

“Enter,” came the gruff command.

Jesse shrugged and opened the door. You gasped softly as you stepped into the lush suite. The sitting room was...intimidating by itself. There were two small fridges instead of one, a huge high tech television showing stock market reports, two heavily upholstered chairs in front of the balcony door, and the large table where Hanzo sat. The carpet sank under your high heels and for a half-second you teetered uncertainly. You got half a look at the small camera he had set on top of a tall wooden cabinet—maybe a valet or wardrobe—before Jesse steadied you.

Jesse strolled in like he hadn’t a care in the world, sliding into the opposite chair. You gamely waltzed in, grinning slightly at the stern man who watched you like a hawk, before lounging suggestively on the arm of the cowboy’s chair.

Hanzo sat back, turning his attention to the cowboy and propping his chin on his fist. “Are you here to sightsee or to play?”

Jesse also leaned back with an arrogant jut of his chin. “Oh...little of both.” He fondled your very lightly clad bottom. “Darlin’—why don’t you see what’s in the mini-bar over there?”

You nodded and went to the fridges. One was empty except for some waxed cardboard boxes that gave you no indication of what was in them. The other had neatly organized rows of tiny bottles. You picked up three palm-sized bottles of bourbon and brought them to the table along with three of the glass tumblers. Jesse took his glass nonchalantly and gestured towards the other man.

You took one tumbler to the other end of the table. The Japanese man watched you closely, idly shuffling the blue backed cards. As you came to his side of the table, he carefully set down the cards as you slid the glass in front of him. One hand came up to glide over your ass and he smirked wryly as his warm palm settled on your hip.

“Why not try it, koneko?” he murmured, nudging his glass with his other hand.

You blinked at him nervously. “But I—,” you started. His hand squeezed you firmly. You glanced at the cowboy and he nodded stiffly. Your hand shook with a blurred excitement as you picked up the tumbler and took a sip. The rye and smoke tastes were sharp and you frowned a bit at the strong flavor.

You set the tumbler down again, your attention focused inexplicably on the red lip print on the rim. Hanzo nodded with an approving sound and patted your ass gently. He looked at you up and down appreciatively and then at Jesse. “Is she for sale?”

“Never,” Jesse grumbled with a smirk. Taking another sip of the alcohol, he jerked his head. You sauntered back to the cowboy. “She is very special.”

Hanzo half shrugged, picking up his drink. “I would pay you well for a girl like her.”

You shivered at the suddenly charged atmosphere. Your core clenched slightly as Hanzo watched you walk back to Jesse. His stare was so intense it was like you could feel his hands on you through your thin dress. You flushed, embarrassed as slick pooled between your legs. You leaned on the arm of the chair, the cool leather immediately against your warm skin.

Jesse smiled at you warmly, dropping his hand to stroke your hip and thigh. You dropped a kiss to his forehead. He smirked at the other man and shrugged, “She is worth more than you could ever afford.”

Hanzo shot him a wicked smile. “You might be surprised.”

Jesse finished his drink and plonked down his cup. “Are you here to play or to sightsee?”

Hanzo gently set his glass down. He shot you another hot look and then picked up the cards. “Perhaps a little of both.”

Jesse had you bring the chips and the extra decks. The atmosphere switched from a playful banter to an intensity that made you shiver. Almost wordlessly, they chose a deck of cards and split up the red, white and blue chips. You watched the archer, feeling an elemental thrill going down your back as you saw—perhaps for the first time—how intimidating the yakuza was. His personality subtle but intense. While Jesse kept his chips in a loose pile in front of him, Hanzo stacked his in precise piles, sorted by color and going from lowest value to highest. His eyes shot up from his dipped face and you saw him smile at you.

“So what’s your pleasure?” Jesse asked as he put an arm around you possessively.

“Five cards. One draw. Dealer declares wild.”

Jesse picked up the deck and shuffled. “Aces and the suicide king.” He picked up a chip and tossed it to the middle of the table. He looked up at you. “And the lady cuts.”

You jumped a bit, but dutifully cut the deck. Jesse kept his cards very close to his chest—you only got a glimpse of a pair of threes. The chips went down and the thrill went into your blood as you watched the game. It was surprisingly exciting to see them as they laid down their cards. Jesse had a three of a kind and Hanzo had a pair at the end. Jesse gave you a grin as he scooped up the chips.

Hanzo shrugged slightly, throwing in his ante and collecting the deck to begin shuffling. Jesse grabbed a chip and tossed it in. They nodded to each other and you settled to watch another hand. Unexpectedly, he slid the deck towards you. Jesse raised an eyebrow and he shrugged, “Let the lady cut.” As you reached for the deck he smirked, “Perhaps the lady will be lucky for me.”

You cut the deck with some excitement. They went back and forth, chips sliding back and forth across the table with the cards. You were called to cut the cards and fetch them tiny bottles of various drinks. You found that you liked guessing the hands, mentally making your own decisions on the cards as they came in.

Jesse became more relaxed as the game went on. He enjoyed his alcohol, becoming sloppier as he kept going. The cards began to turn against him—his hands getting worse and his betting becoming erratic. You shivered, trying to imagine the amount of money was sliding back and forth like waves on the beach. The white chips were worth “one”—whether that was a penny, a yen, a dollar or a hundred of anything. The red chips were “five” and the blue ones were “ten”. It gave you the shivers as you wondered if this is what would happen in a real casino—hundreds of dollars in chips sliding around so carelessly. You glanced up nervously at him as he picked up a blue chip and studied his cards.

“Uhh...Jesse?” Your voice quivered slightly. You had seen only a wild card—a two—and an eight in his hand from your perch on his chair. “A-a-are you sure?”

He set down his hand and chip with a grin. Pulling you into his lap, he smiled at you and said, “I think ya need to give me a kiss—for luck.” You did, shivering as you heard the impatient sound behind you. “Now...why not get me another drink?”

Hanzo folded his cars and smacked them down on the table. “Are you really here to play? Or to drink?”

Jesse shrugged, running his hand up and down your side. “You’re just jealous.” He shot a playful and smug look. “You should have brought your own.”

Hanzo looked darkly at the cowboy. “I am here to play.” He glanced up at you and then down at the pile of chips. He set his folded hand face-down with a slow and graceful motion. “What are you doing here, aside from rubbing on your whore?”

Jesse picked up the blue chip and tossed it in. “How about a water this time, sweetheart?” You nodded and stood, picking up his glass. “And one for him, too? ‘Cause he’s going to choke on this hand.”

You looked at his tiny pile of chips and nodded, biting your lip as he picked up his last blue chip and tossed it into the middle. Walking to the other end to the table, you sucked in a nervous breath as Hanzo gripped his empty tumbler. You reached for it, but he didn’t let it go. Instead, he kept hold of it, wrapping his long fingers around yours.

You shivered to feel his other hand gently graze your thigh. He drug his fingers up, pulling up your dress and exposing your ass. He smiled smugly at you as you shivered, your skin prickling. “Breathe, little one,” he said softly as his hand slid under the stretchy fabric to slide up and down. “In and out. In.” His hand slid up almost to your waist. “Out.” His hand slid down to where your short skirt barely covered the lacy top of your hose. “In and out.”

“Hey!” Jesse protested.

Hanzo seemed to ignore the cowboy. You instinctively obeyed him, breathing deeply and evenly and feeling the heat crawling through you. Hanzo looked at his chips and then the cowboy’s pile with a wicked smile that made your blood thrum with excitement. “You do seem to be having a bad run of luck.” Jesse let out a grumpy sound. “I’ll give you...a hundred for her dress.”

Jesse blinked in surprise, then looked at you with an excited expression. The adorable tip of his nose was red and he pouted. “Are you sure you won’t need that?” He patted his cards. “I mean...this is my turnaround hand.” He shrugged. “Besides, you haven’t called.”

Hanzo turned back to the game, dropping your dress and switching hands so that he could scoop up his chips. “I call.” He looked at your ass and then went back to his chips. “And I raise you...let us say, a hundred fifty.” Jesse sputtered angrily. “You have only about fifty. Where are you going to get the other hundred? Or do you give up?”

Jesse’s face turned red. Finally he turned to you and said, “Darlin’ put your dress on the table.”

“What?” You whimpered slightly as you looked between the men. You were starting to get excited, but nervousness was creeping in your veins, too. “I mean...are you...sure?”

Jesse nodded slowly, stroking the back of his cards. “I got a great hand.” He nodded again. “You won’t even miss it.”

Hanzo smirked, rubbing his rough thumb along your wrist. “Your pet seems most reluctant to obey you.” His fingers slid along your arm. “It would be a shame—dishonor—for you to have to fold because of your own poor skills and a disobedient whore.” He grinned and tugged the fabric again. “I would even give you the full bet—one fifty—for it.”

Jesse’s voice took on a husky timber, his eyes dark and excited as he looked at you. “Put your dress on the table.”

You were shivering as you jerked your hand. The archer released it, sitting back in his chair and watching you with his dark eyes sparkling. His crisp suit slacks had a hard ridge in them that you knew—you just knew—Jesse couldn’t see. Clumsily, you pulled off the thin dress and set it on the table. Hanzo smirked and released you, a hand grazing your skin as you went to take the tumblers to the mini-bar. The air in the room—it was actually pleasantly warm—made your skin prickle as you knelt in your thigh highs and heels and took out two bottles of water and poured some in each glass.

You got back to the table just in time to see Jesse show his hand—a pair of kings and an ace. He reached for the pile—and your dress—only to have Hanzo slowly and methodically turn over his hand and show three fours with a king and a queen. You almost stumbled as you put the waters down.

Hanzo collected the pile and the dress. “It is my turn.” He picked up the dress and laid it across his lap. He shot you a sultry look and flirty grin. “I think that since luck is a lady with me—queens are wild.”

Jesse grunted and tossed his ante into the middle of the table. “Ante up.”

Hanzo nodded and tossed his chip in. Expertly he dealt the hand. You lounged back to glance at Jesse’s hand and saw two queens—including the queen of hearts, which was your card. The cowboy studied his hand a moment and tossed in some chips. You bit your lip nervously as took two cards and you missed seeing what he discarded as well as what he drew.

He glanced up at you and smacked your hip. “Hey, no faces.” He smirked up at you. “You can’t be giving away my hand, now.”

Hanzo chuckled softly. “Ready to lose?”

“You need to call first.”

Hanzo looked at your face and you flushed, turning aside. He studied his fanned out cards a moment more and then his neat piles of chips. Abruptly he shoved them all to the middle of the table. With an air of silent satisfaction, he folded his hand and set it down on the table. You flushed as he folded his fingers and leaned on his elbows.

“All in?” Jesse asked. Hanzo nodded with a devilish smirk. McCree looked at the pile with a grin and then his own pile. He pushed his pile in the middle. “I like that in a man—knowing when you’re beat.”

Hanzo kept smiling. “Only when you show your cards.” He gestured towards the pile with a half shrug. “And you cannot afford to see mine.”

There was a breathless moment of silence and you even held your breath. The cowboy took another look at his cards and scowled with a bit of a smirk. “I guess you’re right.” You leaned over and kissed his head, murmuring softly. He looked up at you, his eyes sparkling and warm. You could tell with just a glance at his face that he was enjoying himself. “Damn shame, though.”

“There is...one thing,” the yakuza smirked. Jesse looked over with hooded eyes. “You would not...welch on the bet now?”

Jesse slammed his fists on the table and stood up with a roar. “Those are fighting words in these parts.”

Hanzo smirked and gestured to the table. “Then finish the hand.”

“I ain’t got anything else!”

“You have...one thing.” Your eyes widened as the other man pointed to you. Jesse shook his head with a bitter expression. “If your hand is as good as you say, then you will not miss her.” He shrugged. “I will even throw in the dress.” He smiled at you. “A great personal sacrifice, you understand.”

Jesse slammed his hands again and dropped to the chair. He studied his hand one more time and gave Hanzo an evil glare. Then he looked at you and your heart stopped for a breathless moment. “Are you—?”

“I am getting impatient.” Hanzo held up a hand as Jesse sputtered. “I do not give credit or what you crude Americans call an ‘I.O.U.’—so do not ask.” He shot you a smoking glance. “There is only one thing more that you have that I want.”

Jesse snorted and looked at you. “Go sit on the table, darlin’.”

You shook and scowled. “No, baby. We’re going out of here together.” The archer snorted. “C’mon...just fold and we’ll leave together.”

He kissed you gently. “I really have a great hand this time. The pot will be ours.”

You pouted, running your hand along his stubbly cheek. “Let’s go.”

Hanzo chose that moment to speak up. “If you were more in control of your pet, we could have settled this by now.” He looked pointedly at his watch and shrugged. “Why not do as she says and fold?”

Jesse sighed against your skin. “I don’t wanna leave ya, darlin’.” He looked up at you with a lazy grin. “But it’s too big a pot ta leave.” He shrugged. “A pot like that would set us up, ya know?”

You nodded and smirked. “I...I suppose.” You turned and walked to the middle of the table and leaned against it. “Is this good?”

Jesse nodded but Hanzo shook his head. The gangster smirked at you and shrugged. “I do not want to have the wager walk out the door.” He tapped his cards. “How do I know I will get my due?” Jesse growled and stalked to the leather bag. He pulled out the handcuffs and looked at the other man, who shook his head. “I cannot tell you how many times I have lost out because I relied on handcuffs.”

“She’s walkin’ out with me, ya know,” Jesse shrugged as he locked your wrists behind your back. “Darlin’...just climb on the table.” 

With his help, you scooted up to lay on the table, chips clinging to your skin as you brushed them. You turned to face him, curling up slightly as the chips spotted your skin. Jesse grinned as he slid a stack of chips across your belly and over your breasts. You smiled back, wriggling slightly as the slick plastic disks clacked around you.

“You’re my lucky lady,” Jesse whispered softly, pouring another handful of chips over you. “All dressed up like I like.”

You yelped as you felt a huge hand wrap around one of your ankles. With a shiver, you twisted to look at Hanzo. His face was tight with hunger and his grip firm as he stared in your eyes. Your body went liquid limp as he stroked the underside of your shoe with his free hand. “Do not get too attached to him, koneko,” he said simply. “The cards are not finished.”

Jesse let out an irritated sound and went to plop down in his chair. You felt the warm hand around your ankle squeeze gently and the strong finger swirled around your ankle before Hanzo let you go. The table felt suddenly more cool and harder underneath you. The chips slid around and rattled noisily as you tried to get uncomfortable and move your weight off the cuffs before they closed too tightly.

Hanzo flipped his cards to show three fours and two eights. You whined to see such a good hand. Your thighs clenched and shifted restlessly as he smiled down at you. His hand spread and he pressed his palm against your calf. He was so cool, so detached, as his fingers curled to stroke you, that you whined as you looked up at Jesse.

The cowboy looked—a little shocked maybe? One by one he turned over his cards—the ace of hearts, the ace of diamonds, the three of diamonds, a six of spades and the queen of spades. You let out a disbelieving cry as you stared at the turned the possible combinations over in your head. At best, he had three aces, but where was the other queen? You thought that you had seen the second queen—a red queen with hearts. You were sure of it. So where was it?

Hanzo chuckled softly, grabbing your ankle and tugging. “I believe that you have...lost, gaijin.”

The cowboy stared at the cards dumbly. “I...I...I....” He stared at you with a gaping mouth. “Oh, baby....”

Hanzo stood and pulled you towards him to sprawl across his lap. Lazily he pressed his forearm down across your upper back and slid the other hand between your legs. He smiled as the chips and cards fluttered to the floor and the other man shot to his feet.

“Baby, I’m...I’m sorry,” Jesse babbled.

Hanzo let out a pleased hum and let an elegant, rough finger trace your slit. “She is a worthy piece.” You squirmed across his lap as he found the honeyed slick he was looking for. “I will grant that she is...a fine specimen worth fighting for—but you have lost and she is mine.” His hand slid out from between your legs and cradled your ass cheek possessively. “Take your last look.” He paused to slide his hand from your back to cradle around your neck. “You will not see her again.” 

Jesse took a threatening step forward. “You...you—! I’ll—!”

Hanzo shrugged. “You will do nothing but walk out the door, or you, Jesse McCree, are finished as a gambler.” He smirked at the cowboy, palming your ass gently. “No one will gamble with someone who made a bet and then pitched a tantrum like a child when he lost.”

Jesse blinked in surprise, backing down. “Fine. But don’t get comfortable. And don’t hurt her. My next bankroll is going to bring you down, gangster.”

Hanzo only hummed. His fingers rippled around your throat and his other hand stroked your skin, tracing the lace at the top of your hose. He looked down at you possessively, humming as your legs jerked nervously. Without looking at Jesse, he said firmly, “The door is behind you.”

You whined, your eyes fluttering shut as the rough fingers began sliding from the top of your thighs to your neck and back down. Your breath slid in as his fingers went up and then out as they stroked down. His own breath shifted to deep, even breaths as well—breaths that echoed yours. Or were you echoing him? Dizzying sensations went through you, pounded through you, as you heard the door open and shut.

“Now you are mine—as I said you would be,” Hanzo murmured.

“N-n-no...,” you whined, shaking your head.

“A lovely pet is all the better for a touch of spirit,” he whispered. “But is best improved by discipline.” He chuckled softly as you shook your head again. The motion made your head spin even more. “And what better time to start than now?”

You felt him shift, slide forward slightly and one hand went behind him to draw out a long length of smooth, black rope. You kicked slightly, feeling it slide snake-smooth along your spine and between your ass cheeks. The handcuffs jingled slightly and you felt them vibrate as the rope kept sliding. His fingers traced over your skin for another breathless moment before tucking the rope directly against your core, right in your slit. The smooth fibers caressed your most delicate and intimate flesh as it pulled again.

You moaned softly, your body trembling as you felt him pull the rope one more leisurely time. He wrapped the top part of the rope around your elbows in a swirling figure 8 pattern before tying the first knot. Your arms were tightened behind you, the elbows almost touching and when you flexed your arms, you found that the rope must have slid through a link between the handcuffs. His fingers pressed the rope more firmly against your clit as he tugged a bit more rope through to allow you more slack and you shook as it seemed to lick your core.

“You are not a foolish pet—nor are you cold or unresponsive,” Hanzo purred. “It is your good fortune that he lost you to me.”

“N-n-no!” Your voice shook almost as much as your body. “Let...let me go! I want Jesse.”

“Shhh, pet,” he murmured.

“No!” You trembled and jerked. The ropes scraped your skin in a rough caress. “I want Jesse!”

He only chuckled as he toyed with the ropes. “You will have to forget him, pet.” He slid a loop of the rope just below both your knees. “You will have no other choice.”

You shook your head nervously. When you opened your mouth to say something, and he looped the thin, stretchy dress around your head in a makeshift gag. As you squealed and tried to kick against the ropes, he pulled them tighter. With a gentle grip, he slid you to your knees beside the chair and tightened the ropes so that you were forced to kneel. With one more knot to keep you securely in place, he stood to tie the other end around one of the heavy table legs.

You watched as he stood, brushing off his suit pants to stand over you. He looked even more intimidating now above you. He offered you a smirk as he removed the gold watch and set it on the table with the mix of cards and chips. “Do not wander too far,” he grinned slyly. “I have some presents for you.”

You shook your head, glaring at him. You tugged this way and that, experimenting with how loose and how firm your bindings were. As you expected, your arms were tight behind your back. The rope went through the links in the cuffs and then around your legs. When you tried to wriggle, the rope slid smoothly against your slit and between your buttocks.

He walked back from the bedroom with a small black leather valise. He set the valise on the table and came to stand in front of you. A large, hot hand slid under your chin to pull your face up to look him in the eyes. His face was stern and beautiful, with warmth and sensuality in his eyes.

You whined a little as he stared down at you. You jerked again as his free hand went to the table. Panic rose in your bewildered veins as you heard him open the valise and look inside. You jerked again, suddenly frightened at your own helplessness. His head whipped around to glare down at you, his eyes alight and a scowl on his face.

His hand tightened along your jaw. Abruptly, he smiled and a shiver went down your spine at the sight of it. “You are badly in want of discipline.” His smirk became even cooler. “It is too bad the cowboy could not give it to you. He was lazy and undisciplined himself and could not give you what you wanted. What you needed.” You twisted slightly, unable to do much more than jerk your head. “But I have no such problems.”

He stood strong—his knees slightly bent and his body flexible to absorb your meager struggles. His hand went to the valise and you heard the soft shush of fabric or leather and the clink of metal. He seemed to be almost thoughtful as he pulled out things and set them on the table.

Seeming without effort, he pulled you out further from the table. The ropes pulled taut as he did, making your slight resistance futile and any further resistance impossible. Again he arranged you as he saw fit, facing the heavy chair he pulled out and unable to do more than wriggle.

He kept you pulled out, looping the little bit of loose rope around your ankles and creating some form of knot that you could not see and could not reach. Finally satisfied, he leaned against the arm of the chair to stare at you. You shook slightly to stare up at him and his smirk of satisfaction.

“Now, little pet,” he murmured, picking up his glass to take a sip of water. The glass sparkled a bit in the light, giving you a brief glimpse of a rainbow in the angles of glass. “Let us see what we have here.”

He reached to the table and you saw him pull back something folded in his hand. He smiled down at you as he unfolded it in front of your eyes. You whimpered as the satin-lined leather was gently placed around your neck, your eyes starting to tear up nervously. He slid the strap through the buckle and fastened it, running a finger under the collar to test the fit.

“There you are, pet,” he whispered, kneeling in front of you. His thumbs rubbed against your cheeks in soft strokes, brushing away your tears. His eyes were serious and he asked, “Will you scream if I take off the gag?”

You gave him a fierce glare and nodded. He smirked in amusement, as though he could hear your mental plotting that you’d scream for Jesse as soon as you could. He gave you a long pause, as if he wanted you to think about it, before picking up a small whip of horsehair.

“Are you sure?” His exotic accent gave a lilt to his words and you focused on them far more hungrily than you should have. “It would be a shame to mark your beautiful skin....”

You gave him another mutinous scowl as he waltzed behind you. There was a hiss behind you and you flinched to hear it. But instead of pain, the whip hit the edge of the table with a harsh sound and you jumped with a yelp. He chuckled behind you as you twisted to see behind you. Of course you couldn’t see more than his shadow. He grunted behind you and you heard the swish again as the whip flew next to your head to his the table again.

The next thing you felt was the tips of the stiff hairs grazed the shivering skin of your back. That made you yelp again as your skin prickled. He knelt behind you and his huge hand crushed the rough hairs against your skin. It was a rough and sliding touch that made you squirm.

“Are you going to scream, koneko?” he asked again. At your uncertain shake, he drug the handful of horsehair against your skin one more time. Then he set it aside and pinched your long earrings. You groaned and instinctively stilled completely as your earrings tugged gently—just enough to feel a bit helpless. “You do not want to, do you?”

You let out a hoarse and muffled cry, unable to even shake or nod your head now. With your mouth full, all you could let out was a soft moan. You had never thought of it, but your ears were very sensitive—especially with him driving your concentration to that small area. Hanzo brushed your earrings, making them and your nerves rattle. You moaned again as their small weight shifted with his grip again. It was unsettling to know that he had no need for whips or anything to prod you into doing what he wanted when all he needed to do was hold the long earrings.

Unexpectedly, one of your earrings slid off and was whisked away. You watched as his hand put it on the table beside you. His tongue touched your sensitive lobe and the adrenaline coursing through you became fire as fear bloomed into a sudden rush of arousal. The other earring followed the first and he massaged the first lobe as he nibbled at the second.

His voice was a sibilant hiss in your ear. “Such cheap trash, koneko.” You shuddered and felt him kiss your shoulder. He stroked your sensitive lobes again. “When you have settled, I will get you...diamonds, I think, in gold.” He licked the side of your neck, nipping the prickled skin there. “Something beautiful to show that I value you.”

You whined softly, shivering as his hands stroked you. The helpless arousal flared and made you feel animalistic. You rocked slightly, your body instinctively seeking a gentle touch. He chuckled, his fingers tracing your ass and the line of your hips. You heard him purr in your ear and leaned closer to the sound.

“Are you going to scream, koneko?” he whispered softly. He laughed as you twitched in surprise. “Are you?”

You gave him a look and shook your head. It made you feel powerless that you couldn’t even answer him. You tugged at the ropes again, shaking your head a bit more. He only brushed his thumbs on your cheeks again before running his hands down your hair and standing up.

“Good girl,” he smiled and tugged down the gag. “Not only do you have spirit to fight, but intelligence to know when it is not in your interests to do so.” 

You shuddered at his predatory expression and the words slipped out softly. “W-w-what are you going to do to me?”

He rolled his shoulders in an elegant shrug. “I would ordinarily try a whore and then send her to her corner.” You gasped and felt a little like crying as he stared down at you. How many women had been in front of him like this? You didn’t know whether to be jealous of the unknown women he had seen like this or to be sad for them. He gave you a half-smile and stroked a lock of your hair. “But you are not ordinary, are you?” You shivered in his grasp and felt him stroke your arm. “Breathe slowly, as I have shown you, and take heart that I find you uniquely beautiful and do not wish you harm.”

You closed your eyes and took in the slow, even breaths he directed. The relaxation swamped you, the disjointed emotions exhausting and feeling...unnecessary. The collar seemed...looser now, the lining satiny smooth and cool against your skin. You bowed your head slightly, feeling his hand cradle your cheek.

“There...that is how you should be,” he praised. “So long as you are relaxed and peaceful, there will be no problems. You are not a disobedient pet, are you?” Your eyes were half closed and you shook your head. “Then we will get along well.” You shuddered again, nodding slowly as his hand ran through your hair. “I will make you more comfortable first.”

He reached to the table and pulled out a pair of cuffs for your wrists. You were distantly surprised to find that the lining of the cuffs were not only satiny, but lightly quilted as well. He fastened them as carefully as he had the collar. “These will not tighten unexpectedly and are more forgiving for such delicate skin as yours.”

He took out another pair of cuffs—larger than the first pair—and knelt behind you to slide them around your ankles. These were padded with quilted satin as well, and fastened just as carefully. They had rings on them as well and Hanzo wasted no time in hooking a length of chain between them and locking them with tiny fingerprint locks. He unwound the rope knots and slid his hands up and down your legs, echoing the deep breathing you both were doing.

He pulled out two more of the small fingerprint locks and looped them around the rope and each other. Reaching into his slacks pocket, he pulled out a shiny handcuff key and undid the cuffs. “There, pet. You should be more comfortable now.”

His hands came up to rub your shoulders and stroke your arms. “Gentle little pet. There is nothing here for a beautiful one like yourself to fear.” You let out a soft sound, your breath flowing out and in slowly. Even when he pulled a long leash from the valise on the table, fastening it to your collar, you were almost distant from it. “Nothing for a gentle girl like you to fear.”

The rope began sliding again and you whined softly as it caressed you. Instinctively, you bent to have the rope drag against your core. You could almost hear the moist sounds as it drug your slick over you. He chuckled and slid it back one more time, pressing it deeper so that you purred as it slid away from you.

You nodded blearily as he finished pulling the rope off of you, unwinding it and looping it again to put it aside. His fingers tested your slit, dipping to touch your entrance and come away glistening. Your eyes went wide as you saw him look at the thick slick before licking it off.

He chuckled at your dazed expression. “You are excited pet.” He stood lazily, toeing off his slick and shiny shoes to kick them off under the table. You half-heartedly shook your head, your cheeks flaming because you knew he was telling the truth. He smiled as the chains rattled and you tried to hide your face. “You need not worry—it is a good thing for a pet to enjoy this.”

You shifted slightly, distantly surprised at how much movement you had in the new bonds. His hand moved to slide up and down your spine. You curled over your bent legs, pushing your hips upward and spreading your legs. He slid between them quite easily, grinding his hips against your plush ass. His warmth was a reward in itself as you stayed on the carpet. Then he pulled back, withdrawing his heat as you knelt there. You shivered, wary in the sudden chill. Both hands traced up and down your spine, fingers lightly caressing you and making your back curl in welcome.

Your next sensation was of a long, thick staff of cool plastic. It rubbed along your skin and the feel was so close to the hard cock that you craved, that you whined as he drug the tip along your skin. In the next moment, it slid into you with a slick sound.

Your toes curled in your shoes and your body arched as you accepted it. Without the slightest friction, it filled you and spread your core. He slid it back and forth in a slow and steady rhythm that was only a hair faster than your breathing. Your soft sounds echoed in his ears as you rolled your hips in response.

Hanzo felt his breath catch as you thrust upward to accept the toy even deeper. You were matching the pace he set with your own thrusts and your slick coated the toy. The surface became slick and then sticky as he pressed it in again. You were far more responsive than he had thought you would be, your eyes hooding closed and your mouth relaxed and your cheeks flushed. It was a rush to feel you move under his hands like this and so trusting in him, so unafraid of what he might do.

“Are you enjoying yourself pet?” You nodded silently, bucking against his hands. He smiled softly as you rocked. “Do you want more?” You nodded again, hissing. “Are you going to scream?”

You were so intent on thrusting and nodding, you almost missed what he was saying. With a whine, you shook your head and let out another soft sound. He laughed low in your ear and released the toy as you clamped down on it. He paused as you wriggled in his arms, stroking your skin up and down until your breath matched his movements. You panted, slowly coming down from the pleasure driven high as he patiently paced you.

Your mouth gaped open and closed without more than a murmur. “P-please.”

He gripped the toy again. “Please what?” You pulled away the half-inch you could and rocked on the toy. “What do you want pet?” You didn’t answer except to rock against his hand again. He laughed and nuzzled your neck. “Perhaps I should reward such a good pet?”

Your expression was confused, almost quizzical as you stared at the camera on top of the cabinet. You shivered as he helped you to your feet. He pressed against you again and you whimpered to feel his covered cock jabbing your hip. You rocked against it, only to have it pull back.

You sighed softly in confusion, “Yes.... I....” You rocked again to try to find the hard cock you wanted, but he only pulled a bit further back. “No...please.”

He chuckled at your soft keening and twitching. “Ahh...you are a lovely pet.” He tapped your skin lightly. “Even if you are a bit impatient.” His fingers slid up your spine and traced the edge of the collar before they slid to grip the long loop at the end of the leash. He grinned as he gripped the leash. “Walk with me, pet.”

You whimpered, your core knotting around the toy he left inside you. Unsteadily, you took a few steps forward. Your eyes glanced at the valise and you swallowed heavily to see lumps and shadowy shapes still in there. You leaned to see inside, but the leash tightened and you turned away with a pout.

“No peeking, pet,” he smirked. He waved his finger at you. “I want to keep a few surprises for later.” His hand waved in a semi-circle around him. “Why not walk for me?” You took a few steps and blushed as he stared at your feet. He smirked as he led you in a circle around himself. “You have a beautiful walk.”

You murmured your thanks as you settled in your place on the high heels in the thick carpet. He smirked as you squirmed and he reached to slide the toy out of you. You whined at the sudden emptiness, stomping your feet a little in frustration.

“Little pet,” he murmured with a smile as you fidgeted. “Whatever is wrong?”

You bit your lip. “But...what about...me?”

He laughed softly and bent to retrieve the boxes you had looked at earlier. You walked with him back to the table, your steps deliberately drifting to see what he had in his hands. He ignored your wandering steps, only placing the closed boxes on the table before going to sit in the chair again.

“Kneel pet,” he murmured. You went to your knees right in front of him, your eyes wide and eager as you watched him. He reached to the table and picked up the glass. He held it to your lips, letting you take a deep swallow of the still cool water. “Now, my pet, we will see how far you can go.” Your eyes were curious as you bit your lip and your wrists wriggled slightly. He traced your lips with his finger. “Have you been trained at all?”

You frowned and shook your head. You didn’t know what to say to that question—or how you might want to answer it. Your training last time had blown your mind, but Jesse suddenly felt a lot farther away as Hanzo’s eyes bored into yours. The hush of the suite crushed you, making it feel like you were so far away. The silence felt like you were on another planet, far away from the lazy comfort of Jesse’s warmth. You swallowed heavily, your mouth dry, before shaking your head again.

“I thought not.” Hanzo smirked slightly and traced your jaw with a rough finger. You shuddered, your eyes wide and your mouth pursed slightly. He tapped your lips and your mouth loosened. “Then I will train you.”

Your mouth fell open as his fingertip slipped inside. He nodded slightly as your lips wrapped around his finger and your tongue touched his skin. There was the tangy slick on his finger and it made you feel hungry for more. He did nothing more than touch the back of your ear and your head slid forward and your mouth went to his knuckle. He smiled as you suckled, stroking your hair gently.

He pulled back and you looked up at him with a heavy pout. He wiped his hands on a handkerchief from his pocket. He gave you a satisfied smile as he pulled you across his lap. You let out a nervous squeal and jerked anxiously. You were glancing around with a whimper when you felt both his hands settle on your back.

“Such a noise, pet,” he chided. He ran one hand down over your hips and you jerked again, wondering what he was doing behind you. “I only wished to touch you here.” His hand closed over your ass and squeezed just tightly enough that you felt a bit alarmed. “It is my right to touch you as I wish.”

You bit your lip nervously, whining as he he squeezed a bit harder. “Little pet, you have nothing to fear as long as you are obedient.” His hand squeezed a brief second longer then loosened. “But you should fear my punishments.”

Your body jerked, your hip stinging as he released it. The heat from just a moment before settled into you ass as he started stroking your skin. One elegant finger began tracing random patterns on your skin. “Are you so eager for my punishments?” You shook your head, licking your dry lips. “My punishments will hurt, pet.” His hand stroked your ass and began tracing the lace at the top of your hose. “It would be a shame to mar such flawless skin.”

You whimpered helplessly as one strong hand went to the back of your throat and the other went to cup your upper thighs. You were about to kick hard, to resist, but instead of some harsh blow, his hand began drifting feather lightly across your skin. You couldn’t resist trying to arch your body closer to him. The delicate touches kept drifting in random directions—a feather gone mad in a breeze—and the barest brush made your skin prickle.

You hadn’t even realized that you had spread your legs slightly for leverage until his finger went down and brushed your core. That was the spark that flattened you, making you whine and curl your back to get it deeper. Ahh, then he rewarded you with a gentle thrust with first one, then two fingers. Your hips pressed up in mute encouragement as his other hand released your neck and two fingers pressed between your lips.

“That’s better, pet,” he praised with a smirk. “You take me so well.” He hummed, pumping slickly between your thighs and into your mouth. You arched, squirming on his lap, a perfect picture of erotic eagerness. “But I want more from you.”

Your eyes fluttered closed as he pulled back his fingers from your core. You suckled harder on his fingers as they approached the back of your mouth. Your lips tightened around them as you felt a fingertip gently slide next to the two already buried in your slick passage. You tossed your head restlessly as the third finger gently probed your entrance. It was too much for you, your entrance already tight around his fingers. He pressed again at the knotted ring around his fingers and you squealed as he tried again to slide into the tight core.

“Ahh...too much?” You nodded frantically. His fingers were long and thick and two of them filled you so well. Especially when he curled them right at the exact spot that made you gurgle with pleasure. His hand withdrew and he pressed one finger against the tight pucker of your ass. You jerked in surprise and uncertainty. “Are you so eager here, too?”

Your eyes went wide for a surprised moment. Jesse had used toys, but never wanted to try such. Ever so gently, Hanzo’s fingertips pressed just barely inside with your own slick easing the way. You shuddered again, your eyes closing as sensations swamped you. He wiggled his finger slightly—a feathery vibration that made your muscles clench.

“You are such a tight little girl,” he murmured. “You were clearly wasted as the cowboy’s pet, you know.” His fingers teased you again and you back arched deeper. “And now you are mine.”

Slick and spit dribbled out, coating his fingers. Hanzo let out a soft laugh and pulled his fingers out of your mouth to slide them down your chin and then down to your breasts. His long fingers plucked at your tight nipples, making you squirm even more. Your belly felt the hard outline of his cock and that made your insides throb. Even when he let go of your breasts, they ached for more and you let out a desperate, animal noise of protest as you teetered on the edge.

Unexpectedly, something hit your teeth and tongue. Your instincts kicked in and you clamped down unsteadily, surprised to taste a fruity lollipop. Your lips tightened around it and your head bucked up to try to turn and look at him. He smirked down as you squirmed on his lap, reaching to pinch the thin white stick and wiggle it. You swallowed, relishing the syrupy sweetness as it trickled down your throat. Your teeth clamped on it at the next tug, unwilling to release the candy.

He chuckled low in his throat and gave your head one last shake before releasing it. His hands started gently tracing up and down your back again. You shuddered, rocking every time a hand got close to your sopping core. You let out an impatient squeal, rocking hard again as his finger went back to flutter against your ass’s pucker.

His voice was deep and husky as he said, “Are you eager for me yet?” You nodded with a whine. “But what if I am not?”

Your eyes went wide and you let out a helpless cry. How could he not be ready and eager?! He laughed again and helped you stand. He pressed his finger into one of the locks at your wrists and it beeped and released with a rattle of the thin chain. He dipped down slowly, running a hand down your trembling leg to release first one end of the leg chain, then the other. You whimpered, your lips tight around the little stick as he took his phone out of his pocket. He sat back down, leaning back comfortably in the chair and kicking out his legs. Holding up the phone, he flicked a button on the screen. A heady techno music throbbed out, a woman’s husky voice chanting a suggestive refrain. His lips curled in a pleased, satisfied way.

“Dance for me,” he ordered softly.

You looked a bit surprised, but the rhythm was hypnotic and the beat went into your blood. You swayed as you brought your arms in front of you. His eyes glimmered in expectation as you began your slow, sultry walk around him and his chair. There was something erotic in the shimmy of your stomach, the swing of your hips, the small kick of your heels. You leaned backwards over the arm of the chair, stroking your breasts and teasing him shamelessly. Straightening, you walked to in front to bend over in front of him and shake your ass, only to stand and turn to face him again. The music changed slightly, speeding up slightly, and you put the toe of one high heel on the arm of his chair, right where his fingertips could brush it. You had seen a video clip of a woman doing this, to tease a man with her core right where he could see every bit of it, but was not supposed to touch. The woman had been lovely and even you had been excited to watch it.

But that woman had not been here, with Hanzo Shimada’s dark eyes watching her. She had never been here, as he sat there with that diabolical smirk. The devil himself could not have looked so tempting. You felt a streak of rebellious energy go through you, and you recklessly licked your fingers mere inches from his face. With a roll of your hips, you let your fingers fall slowly to your core. Thrusting your hips forward, your fingers stroking your clit and then dipping into your core. Recklessly, you pushed a little forward, just enough so that you saw his nostrils flare with the musky scent of your arousal.

You grinned, bending to put your face just an inch or two from his. You rolled your tongue around the lollipop, making the end of the stick bob in an uncertain heart shape. You brought your fingertips to your nose, smelling yourself. You smelled aroused, but it was more than worth it to see his eyes darken and half close, his nostrils flaring more as you traced his lips with your slick.

He grinned wickedly and batted at your leash like a lazy cat. He cocked his eyebrow, watching you with an electric intensity. You matched his smirk, rubbing his stubbly cheek with the back of your hand before dropping it to graze his hard cock with your fingertips. He certainly felt like he was eager, like he wanted....

He looped a finger in the handle of your leash. Your hands dropped to his hips as your eyes stayed on his. He let out a hushed growl and you traced the hard ridge in his pants. You couldn’t resist kneeling as his legs spread. He gripped your leash, smiling down at you as he gripped the lollipop and pull it out of your mouth.

You popped your lips, licking the last of the sticky candy off. Your fingers kept rubbing and tracing the hard cock. Abruptly, you slid forward, your mouth sloppily covering it. You hungered for him, and you lapped, licked, sucked. He bucked up, grinding against your lips, and then slammed his hips back down on the chair.

“Vixen,” he hissed, grabbing your leash close to the collar and then pulling your head off his lap. You whined, jerking and pulling wildly against the leather, put his grip was firm and he waited quite deliberately until you steadied with a pout. “Do you toy with me?”

Without waiting for a reply, he yanked your leash until you straddled his lap. Your core was right on top of his hard cock. Impatiently, you rocked back and forth, pulling against the collar and leash to get the tip right up against the tight bud of your clit. You didn’t stop wriggling, even when he rumbled a warning at you. It felt amazing as you ground down, your hands gripping the arms of the chair to pull harder.

He was growling now, gripping the leash so hard that his knuckles were white. You grinned smugly and leaned in close. You wanted to drop a kiss on his lips, but he yanked the leash a bit, just stopping you. You grunted at him and then stuck your tongue out to touch his lips. He looped the leash around his fist, pulling you further back. 

His other arm wrapped around you and he slid off the chair to hold you against him. You whimpered and wrapped your arms around his neck, your legs wrapping around his hips. You hadn’t been held up like this since you were a child—if you ever you could remember being held like this. He was so strong, holding you up and walking to the table.

Your back hit the table, the cards and chips slick and startling against your skin. Instantly, you arched and your legs tightened around his waist. He looped his fist in the leash again, his knuckles grazing your jaw before his fist hit the table beside your neck. You bucked wantonly, your hands grabbing a hold of his shirt. Your legs restlessly tried to pull on him.

“Koneko,” he gritted out huskily. You grinned, wriggling hard against his body. It was a fight—your hands gripping his shirt and your legs straining at his hips as he stood up over you. The collar pulled tight and you had to release him. You whined, reaching up, only to have him grin. “Open your legs—now.”

You rolled on the table impatiently and pouted as you let one leg go down uncertainly. Instantly his hand was at your core, driving two fingers inside. You cried out as his fingers pumped inside, the slick bubbling across his knuckles and smearing on his palm. If only he’d loosen the fist with the leash! Your body cried out to curl around him but your neck was held fast against the unforgiving top of the table. Instead, you could only curl up, offering your slit up so high that you could almost see his fingers inside you.

“Cum for me!” he barked. His rough thumb smashed the tightly engorged clit and his fingers slammed in, curling to scrape the delicate and sensitive spot that made stars appear before your startled eyes. His rolled his wrist, his fingers swirling in a way that made you gasp. You let out a startled cat’s mewl, your body twisting and writhing. He let out a harsh sound, his fingers starting to scissor and stretching you inside. “I said, ‘cum for me’!”

Tears blurred your vision and you gasped again. Your body was alive at his whim, thrashing uncontrollably to get him inside deeper. There was a shift in his hand and that third fingertip scraped your gushing entrance again. Panting and mewling, you bucked up one more time, the collar slickly tight and his fingers nailing you to the table. You screamed as you fell over the edge, everything convulsing with unbelievable pleasure.

Hanzo grunted and you wailed to see that he did not look pleased. He looked furious. You shook on the table, biting your lip nervously. Slowly he unwound the leash, standing over you. He took a look at the smears of slick on his palm and then at you. “Messy girl,” he whispered softly, then licked his fingers with a smoky look in his dark eyes.

He looked at you carefully. “I wonder if my new pet will be obedient?” You looked up at him blearily and nodded. “Good. Now follow me.”

He led you to the bathroom, having you kneel on a pair of towels he folded to provide a pad for you. Silently, he ran a deep tub of water. Testing it with his hand, he nodded and beckoned you over. You scooted closer and were surprised when he took off the elaborate collar, anklets and bracelets. He set them on the counter and then pointed to the tub.

“Get in, koneko,” he whispered, nudging your shoulder. You took a glance at him and then whimpered to see the little camera balanced on the towel rack on the wall. He raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “I want you to rinse off, pet. If you will not be obedient, I will lock you in your collar and you will be kneeling in the tub with your chains on. And while you are a pretty pet when you are locked up, it would not be comfortable.”

You blinked and slid in. He leaned against the counter of the sink as you lowered yourself into the warm water. The tub was almost large enough for you to swim in and you could easily lay down comfortably. It was a relief to be supported by the warm water, to feel it welcoming you.

He let you get settled, waiting patiently as you stretched and smiled at the warmth lapping at you. Finally he came close and murmured, “Relax. Take your time.”

You nodded and bit your lip, even when he reached over and turned on the jets. They pulsed warmly around you and you laid back. He picked up one of the towels you had knelt on and rolled it, sliding it under your hair at your neck. Then, he left, closing the door behind him.

It seemed you hadn’t been in the tub hardly any time at all when he came back in. He smirked down at you, and gestured. “Come, pet. Dinner is here.”

You pouted a bit as he helped you out of the tub. He dried you off and slid back on the collar and the rest of it. Leading you out by the leash, he went to the immaculately laid table and had you kneel beside the table. Mindful of the camera, he sat down at the place at the table. 

Your face tilted up to smell shrimp and steak. He didn’t seem to pay you much attention as he cut the steak and vegetables. It smelled divine and you went to your knees to peek on top of the table. He laughed and ruffled your hair, then pushed on your shoulder.

“Down pet.” He cut another piece of steak. “You will get some.”

You plopped down on the floor again, your nose still tickling with the smell of dinner. He finally grinned at you again and picked up a small piece of steak. Your mouth went open and he carefully set it on your tongue. It was charred just right, hot juice running out of it and filling your mouth. You were almost sad to swallow it.

You gave him a pout, sitting on your heels with your hands on the chair. Every so often, he would pick up a bit and slide it into your mouth. A bite of steak. A shrimp. A chunk of potato. A forkful of salad. Every two or three bites, he would lower the glass of sparkling water for you to sip. If you rose up or reached for anything, immediately he would pull back, eating calmly and waiting for you to kneel back down.

You were surprisingly full when he slid the after dinner mint into your mouth. You sucked on it, watching him curiously as he leaned back with a tumbler of something from the minibar and sipped it. He stroked your hair soothingly, absently, as he finished his drink.

Finally he pushed his seat back and tugged your leash, leading you to laying back down across his lap. You twisted restlessly, unsettled that he still was rock hard underneath the fine wool of his pants. You drove your fingers down to stroke his cock, ignoring the warning tugs of the leash and the squeeze of his hands on your ass. You stroked him again and whined as his hands danced lightly across your skin.

“Are you still unable to rest?” He laughed, low and dark. “I thought you would be well satisfied by now.”

“Are you?” Your voice came out sharper and more flirtatious than you had intended. You jammed your hand to rub his cock. “Are you satisfied?”

He said nothing, only gave your bottom a light pop. “And what would it take to satisfy you, my wanton pet?” He stroked your slit, letting his finger dance on your clit. “Should I bend you over this chair and fuck you?”

Your eyes fluttered with the image and heat pooled in you again. Impishly you nodded. “Please do.”

He let out a growl and stood, all but dumping you off his lap. Immediately, you were scrambling back up to bury your face in his groin. He chuckled and pushed you back, holding your shoulders so you could do little more than squirm. “Impatient pets do not get what they want.” You growled softly and he shook his head sternly. “Impatient pets get punished.”

You settled then, pouting at him. “But I want to—.”

“You want to be used.” His voice was solemn and grave as he stared down at you. “But you need to be disciplined as well.” He patted your head solemnly. “Even a beautiful wanton is a mere whore without it.”

You flushed angrily, turning away. “That was unnecessary.”

You heard him growl and flushed more to look up at him. He scowled angrily and you watched as he chillingly folded his fingers. Finally, you heard him whisper, “Go lean over the back of the chair.”

The cutting hiss made your blood run cold and you crept to the leather chair. He fastened the cuffs on you, looping the little chains around the bottom of the chair legs. You jerked nervously as he paced restlessly around you, leaving your bottom up in the air and your torso draped uncomfortably along the back and seat.

He went back to the valise and brought out a thick, long piece of cloth. You were expecting it to go over your eyes, but there was enough the it wrapped around the back of your head and the knot was in your mouth. He tugged the knot gently, making sure that the bindings were not too tight.

His fingers wrapped around your neck, rippling in a way that made you instinctively swallow. His other hand stroked your spine, going up and down slowly until you were panting in time. You whimpered softly, feeling his fingers flex again.

He was silent as his hand went wandering to your ass. Cool slick collected on his fingers as the crept to your slit. He slid past your hungry core, going directly to your clit. His finger strummed it, making you whine. His fingertip was rough and scraped your sweet spot. You tried to cringe, to writhe, but the back of the chair held your ass up to him like a pagan offering.

He was merciless, scraping his thumb and fingers where it lit you up the most. Overwhelming sparks filled you in your dark silence and you chewed helplessly on the knot in your mouth. He didn’t give you a chance to do anything before his fingers started dancing on your tight clit, twisting like a demented dancer.

“Little pet,” he mused softly as you moaned and shook your head. “You are only beginning.”

He let go of your neck and you sucked in a desperate breath through your nose. That hand did not let you rest and ran down to join its companion. He pinched your sensitive bud and then two fingers slid inside to fill you. He began a steady movement, pumping his fingers in and out as you clamped down helplessly.

“Are you aroused pet?” He hummed softly as you nodded. Abruptly he scissored his long fingers and you wailed, your juices slopping noisily. He leaned over and whispered harshly in your ear, “You have no idea what I am going to do to you.”

You jumped, kicking and pulling against the chains and only able to move inches. His fingers were all concentrated on your hungry core and in tormenting your clit. He would never let you rest, constantly changing his thrusting and stroking so that you were clenching on the edge. Your body twisted helplessly as you tried to gulp in enough air. You bent and thrashed to push against his hand, feeling the hard stop of his wide fist against your core. Just as that dizzy edge crept up, as you began a whining pant in time to his thrusts, he pulled out. You were silent for a long moment, waiting for the next pump of heat, but he was gone and left you shivering there.

The silent pause filled you and your muffled scream echoed in your ears. Your eyes dripped out tears and spotted your blindfold. You couldn’t help it—you yanked on the chains again desperately. There was no sound from the archer—nothing you could hear—and you couldn’t help but cry, shuddering. You screamed Hanzo’s name, but there was no answer that you could determine. It was like he had left you entirely.

Your mind spun and seconds seemed to creep by. What if you were caught here? What if there was a fire? What if Hanzo did...something and you were stuck here? What if Talon had Jesse and was creeping closer here? What if? What if?! What if?! You screamed again—screamed for Hanzo, for Jesse, for anyone—but all that came out was a muffled moan.

Then you heard the distinct sound of a zipper. You flopped on the chair, at last grounded in that metallic sound. Someone was here. Someone else was here in the suite, and you weren’t going to be chained here forever. You jerked again, trying to figure out where he was.

Instead, you felt a hot hand on you again. The adrenaline pounded through you and your core clenched hungrily. All of your consciousness was focused on the dancing fingers went back to your clit. You shrieked again as the desperate need to climax came rushing back and buzzed into your ears.

Suddenly, you felt filled. He thrust deep and you gasped heavily to feel so full. It was a strange feeling, but you couldn’t put your finger on what was different. Your wet cunt burned so deeply that you couldn’t stop moaning as he slipped in and out. You arched your back more, pressing your belly to the back of the chair as much as you could so that he could get deeper.

You blindly shuddered and stars burst behind your eyelids. One hand steadied your hip and there was another deep thrust. You had nothing to grip and your hands were in fists as you pulled helplessly on the chains. He scraped deep inside you—all the way to bump your womb. You shrieked again and your entire core clamped down and you fell over the edge.

He gave you no rest, no respite, just kept going with those thrusts and the tender stroking of your clit. You yelped as you came through the afterglow, only to find him still going. It was too much and you screamed again as you spasmed. You couldn’t stop him from grinding even deeper, from continually stroking your clit and from his gentle tugging on your oversensitive nipples.

That wandering finger that tormented you began to gently poke the tight pucker of your ass. You shrieked again, bucking the tiny amount that the chains let you and shaking your head wildly. Everything collapsed on your overstimulated nerves as you finally managed to breathe through the jitters and electricity until you felt the tide rise again.

There was a faster rhythm now, starbursts flickering more and more as he got in deeper and deeper. There seemed to be no end to it as it filled you. He must have the stamina of a bull and you wailed more. He ground against your core, speeding up and thrusting harder. He had to be close to his end! He had to be close....

Now he let your clit go, only to begin plucking your nipples and squeezing your breasts. It was like he was milking your pleasure directly from your body, your core clenching in his heady rhythm. You whined, begging him in muffled words to please be so close—as close as you suddenly were. He kept stroking and pumping, breathlessly deeper than you ever felt before. It seemed like you were pouring slick over him and you clawed the leather upholstery as hard as you could. He was still silent, the thrusting never ending.

Your climax rocketed even harder through you the second time. You screamed and collapsed on the chair. The climax burned every nerve until it was a spent ash in your blood. Finally, as you began sobbing behind the blindfold, you felt him finally slow down. You mumbled helplessly as you gnawed on the knot and cried out the words.

He pulled out, leaving your sweaty body briefly as you laid there. You were crying out, helpless and weary. You prayed desperately that he was done—you couldn’t take anything else. When his hands returned, gentle and sure, you shuddered as you were unlocked and unfastened. He pulled a sheet over you, wrapping you up and cradling you in his large arms like a child.

“Shh, koneko,” he whispered. “You are safe.” You nodded slowly and he put you down on the chair. Then with sure fingers, he began to slide the knot loose. The scarf flopped from your head to drop around your neck. “You did well, koneko. You can rest.”

You blinked in the sudden light, staring blankly up at him. He grinned and you were surprised to see him fully dressed. With slow and steady movements, he tucked the sheet even closer around you and scooped you up to cradle you to his chest.

“Well done, koneko,” he repeated as you closed your eyes. “You need to only rest now.”

You nodded slowly, glancing down at the floor. Scattered around was the motley collection of cuffs and chains and a large, flesh-colored toy. You whimpered, staring at the last with a sad pout on your face. He shifted his arms until you were more comfortable, stopping only when you said, “But you...didn’t?”

He looked down at you and dropped a kiss to your forehead. “I am fine, koneko.” He turned slightly, kicking one of the chains away. “But you must go back.”

You yawned sleepily, not really certain of what the answer was supposed to be. He only chuckled and carried you out to the room Jesse was in. You were almost asleep when the cowboy answered his door. The archer slid inside, putting you in the wide bed and tucking you in. By the time the men said their good nights, you were safely asleep.

Hanzo went back to his suite and collected the toys to clean them and put them away. It was all too quick and the room was restored to its anonymously cleaned state. He sat with his glass and stared at the card and chip covered table, sipping slowly.

The little camera turned off and he was almost sad to see the little LED light die. The fantasy he had enjoyed too much shattered like a glass ornament hitting a stone floor. He had nothing else tonight—an empty bed and an even emptier suite until tomorrow morning. Then, he would watch you and the cowboy leave together and would again be watching you from the sidelines.

He wanted again, desired again. You had been his only briefly, a fantasy of a single night like in a child’s fairy story. He could see you in every crevice of the room—an illusion of soft heat and wanton pleasures. He couldn’t even look at the carpet without seeing you there. You filled his mind as he raised his hand to sip his drink and could smell you on his fingers.

He knew he wanted you too much. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from rutting his hard cock against your soft hip as he fucked you with the toy. He had been buried in your scent, your taste—blind and deaf to anything and everything but digging in as deep as he could. He knew he wouldn’t have lasted long—his cock wanted too much—but the sweet blessed relief would have been worth all the recriminations afterwards. He would have adored you, relished your body and the sweet sounds that you made, given you all of the pleasure he could.

He still would have had to walk away. He still would have had to give you up. You still would not have been his. He would still have had to give you back to the cowboy. He could give you ecstasy like you had never felt, and he would have still had to give you up.

Why did he need what he could not have?

You were not his. You were not.... You belonged to the cowboy. That had not changed—would not change. He had been so close, dancing on that heady edge. His cocked still ached, his muscles shaking as he forced himself to stay seated. He wanted to go back to the other suite, to shove the cowboy off of you and bury himself into your body before he went mad. He hurt with the effort to stop himself from doing it—from forcing you away from the cowboy, forcing him to give you up. He had a small weapon—a tiny pistol—and it sang to him to follow his primal instinct to hunt you down and claim you for his own.

He drank his drink, staring into space and praying for the strength to let you go again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is dedicated to ILoveHanzoMoreThanSleep — but I can’t dedicate a specific chapter, so this is the best I can do.

Hanzo scowled as his doorbell rang and he was forced to rise from his kneeling, meditative pose. Today had been truly agonizing. Of all cursed days, today was his birthday. The overly talkative British woman had gathered a few people and they had sung terribly and presented him with a cupcake along with a ridiculous metallic gold cone hat and enough confetti that it went everywhere. Traditionally, he didn’t celebrate it to begin with but to be forced to listen to them all caterwauling and then have to clean up all the shards of paper from our his desk. The sole good thing is that Genji had steered clear of him.

He knew he wouldn’t get what he wanted for his birthday—or any other day, come to that. He wanted you, naked, on his bed and a whole week making you scream his name. Of course, you belonged to Jesse—that idiotic, naive cowboy who gave him teasing little tastes of you. That stupid cowboy who had no idea how close the archer was to going mad and taking you by force. How he now regularly kept a small knife and a tiny pistol hidden on him, savoring the temptation and the fantasies of making you his.

It only made him ache more. His short little daydreams of being the Shimada Scion and a kumicho again were more addictive than any drug. His favorite—the one that could make his cock ache before bursting and shooting white cum over his hand—was one that he sent out his men to find you. They would bring you into his office—the luxurious and dark office with the thick carpet and the low coffee table in front of the leather chairs and the mahogany desk—and you would be there with barely a robe covering you. He would dismiss them and they would vanish, leaving him towering over your almost naked body. Details were unimportant—sometimes he wanted the cowboy in debt to him, sometimes he wanted the cowboy just gone—except for that breathless moment when you would look up at him and beg for his mercy. Then he could shed his clothes easily and push that soft robe aside and begin the delicious task of showering you with pleasure in every inch of the room.

The doorbell rang again.

He went to his apartment door, ready to thrash whoever it was. It wouldn’t matter if it was some child or an adult—they wouldn’t soon forget this mistake. His dick disagreed that even answering the door was a good idea. He yanked open the door—almost tearing it off the hinges.

But...it was you in a nice trench coat with pretty half boots and a white iced cake with strawberries on the top in a cellophane box and a bright red envelope in your hands.

“Hey,” you grinned. “Jesse and I thought.... Maybe...your birthday?”

He bowed shallowly, standing aside to allow you to come in. Your slight perfume drifted to his nose as you stepped out of your boots and went to put the cake on his small kitchen table. He watched you as you bent slightly, your hands sliding out from under the box, his mind a bit fuzzy as it seemed one of his fevered fantasies was coming to life. He was going to offer you tea or something else to drink when he realized your legs were bare under your trench coat. Immediately, his imagination went into overdrive as he pictured you naked beneath the conservative coat. He was so swamped in his fantasy that he missed you offering him the scarlet envelope.

“Hanzo?” you asked softly. “Is something wrong?”

He shook his head suddenly, shaking more inside as he tried to separate reality from overheated fantasy. “No. Of course not.” Steeling his nerves, he forced his hands to be steady as he accepted the red envelope. “Thank you.”

You shrugged slightly, a rosy flush to your cheeks suddenly. “Jesse would be here, but he got called out on an emergency mission to Dorado.” You jittered, shrugging slightly. “So...this is from both of us.”

He felt his teeth clench at that poisonous word ‘us’. “That is generous of you.”

You heard the grit in his voice. “Umm...maybe this is a bad time—?”

“No...thank you.” He gestured towards the two tweed upholstered chairs. “Would you like a seat?”

To his surprise, you only turned red. “Well, we were going to....”

“To what?” He fiddled with the envelope and it ripped. He pulled out the silly card showing a cartoon cat in a ninja outfit. “Is something wrong?”

He watched as you pointed vaguely at the card. He opened the card and it only said “Enjoy your evening—Happy Birthday, Han” with both Jesse’s and your signatures at the bottom. His cock immediately throbbed and his gut clenched as his imagination went wild at all the implications he was able to summon at that moment. “What is this about?”

You glanced down shyly, your cheeks the most unforgettable shade of rose, and pulled out a slender bottle. “Well...we thought....maybe—you would like me to—.”

Hanzo took in a dizzy breath. He was burning in feverish fantasy even now and he hadn’t managed to get a full sentence out of you yet. “What do you want—?”

You shrugged nervously. “We could go to the bedroom.” He thrilled to that suggestion, and nodded mutely. “I thought you might like a massage.”

“A massage?” he whispered hoarsely.

You nodded with a smirk and wide, almost innocent eyes. “You seemed...tense this week. I thought—.” You shrugged lamely, staring down at his sock covered feet. “I thought that maybe it would help. That you would....like....”

“Yes,” he burst out.

He shuddered, letting you lead him to the bedroom. You gave him soft instructions, going to wrap a hot washcloth around the bottle of massage oil to warm it. He went to the low futon, his eyes riveted to the deep chest beside the futon that held all the toys and the pointless souvenirs of every time he had seen you. You would be...hell—there was no telling what you would do if you saw all of the things he had collected and all the toys he had bought thinking of what they would do to you. His cock was almost against his belly as he slid to lay on his stomach and he turned his head to watch you.

You opened the trench coat and, to his disappointment, you were not naked. Not completely, anyway. But it was the next best thing—a lacy silver satin babydoll gown with satin bows from the low neckline to the hem. He was almost trembling just looking at that, then you fumbled in the pocket to pull out a pink ribbon rimmed with ruffled lace and a pretty little metal heart dangling from the bow in the middle. His mouth went dry as you fastened it around your neck.

You tried to give him a smile—his eyes coal dark and ember hot—and knelt beside the futon. The bottle of oil was warm and you popped it open. “I...hope that I do this right.”

He stared at you hungrily. “Whatever you do will be fine.”

His low rumble made your blood race and your face flame even hotter. “I’ll do my best.”

Dribbling the oil on your palm, you took in a deep breath to try and calm your nerves. It didn’t really help when he pulled off his shirt and stretched before laying down on the futon. He was just far too sexy in a completely different and exotic way from the cowboy. Nervously, you rubbed the oil on your fingers and then put a small puddle in your palm.

Hanzo groaned as your oil slick hands drifted over his back. His skin prickled in anticipation as you stroked him and it was almost painful to only lay there. If it hadn’t made him so hard, if he had some hope of relief, he would have actually deeply enjoyed the lingering, soft touches. You stroked him, trying everything to get him to relax—different pressures, long stokes, deep rubs, gentle kneading, tapping and harder strokes all over his back. He struggled to relax as you went to his shoulders and down his arms to his wrists.

Finally, you were at his waist again, giving him soothing strokes across his lower back. You seemed nervous now and gave him an anxious little sound as his muscles tightened again. “What’s wrong?”

He hissed for a half second. Even that little cry was beautiful and rang like the clear tone of a crystal bell in his ears. His hips pressed into the soft sheets and futon again, rubbing his skin and cradling his hard cock in the cushion of its softness. “Nothing,” he finally choked out.

“Maybe you’d prefer...something else?”

“Koneko,” he whispered. Any louder and he was sure you’d hear how he was shaking—even his voice was trembling—as he struggled to maintain control. “Why...don’t you get out the cake?”

You nodded, putting the oil on the nightstand with a sad little look. With a perplexed pout on your face, you stood and went to the other room. You felt jumpy and excited, but a little fearful, too. He hadn’t relaxed at all. Instead, he was even more tense. It was a little disappointing—especially since Jesse practically liquified when you massaged him. Your hands undid the clear box and you slid out the cake. Going to the kitchen, you washed your hands and then rummaged in his cabinets until you found two plates and two forks. There was no cake slicer that you could find, so you got out a flat, sharp knife from the drawer where it rested beside a throwing star and a small pistol.

You had everything on the table when he came in wearing a black hakama and a ghi top loosely belted around his waist. He nodded stiffly and pulled an exotic looking bottle and two small, shallow cups from another cabinet. At your questioning look, he rasped, “I wish to have a little sake.”

You nodded slowly, your eyes wide. “That sounds good.” He gave you a glare and your cheeks burned. “Fun...”

Finally, he looked down at the cups again, his jaw tight and clenching. “Tell me, koneko, what is this?”

For a moment, you were tempted to make a flippant reply and say “those are cups” but something in his gruff, strained tone made you pause. “What do...do you mean?”

His eyes shot to yours with ferocious fire. “What are you doing here? Alone with me?” His hand gestured sharply. “And in that?!”

You took in a nervous breath. “I thought we were...celebrating?”

“And the cowboy?” He almost didn’t want to ask, but the question was burning so deep it was about to burst out of his skin. 

You couldn’t even swallow. “He wanted us to have fun—except he got called on an emergency mission.” You shrugged lamely. “Jesse’s going to be gone all week and said that it wasn’t fair to make you wait.”

Hanzo’s breath hissed between his teeth and his hands went to slam on the counter to stop them from shaking. “And he is...unconcerned?”

You blinked. “But I am perfectly safe with you, here on base.”

“Are you?” he whispered with a chuckle. With a practiced move, he pulled open the bottle and sloshed some into the first cup his hand hit. He all but dropped the bottle on the counter as he swiped up the little cup and drained it.

“Umm...yeah?”

He stood there, looking at nothing for a moment. Then he poured two more small drinks. “And are there any limits to this celebration?” When you shook your head slightly, his eyes went wide. He glanced down for a long pause. “And what do you want?”

Your mouth was dry. “I want..to make you happy. Maybe even make you relax.”

“So I can do whatever I wish?” he purred in an unexpectedly pleased tone as he scooped up the tiny cup and drained it again. You nodded slowly again, suddenly too cold in your silvery gown. “And you do not mind? You agree?”

You shook your head as he drank back a third cupful of the sake. “You would never hurt me or—.”

Hanzo’s laugh sounded like a broken thing echoing in a desolate cavern. Finally he nodded and pointed to the cake as he drained and refilled the cup again. “Cut me a slice of cake, then.”

You took the knife and cut a pretty slice with a strawberry on it. He took the cup and the bottle to the living room, settling the bottle beside his upholstered chair and the cup in his hand. With a timid smile, you brought the plate to him.

He lounged loosely in the chair, holding the fragile cup lightly in his fingers. As soon as you got to him, he nodded regally and pointed to the floor. “Kneel.”

You did. Of course you did. Things suddenly felt safe and warm and deliciously tilted back towards stable ground. He seemed more relaxed now as his sipped from the tiny cup. You offered him the plate with a pleased grin, gratified when he took it and balanced it on his thick thigh.

“Serve it to me,” he smirked. When you flushed because you realized you forgot to get a fork, he only snapped and shook his head. “With your fingers.”

You picked up a small piece of the moist yellow cake and rose to put it in his mouth. A small dot of icing fell to his chin and you bit your lip. He reached and tugged your lips to it, so you lapped it up. His pleased rumble gave you a bit more confidence as you lapped up every bit of the sugar. Balancing the cake bite on your fingers, you offered it to him.

He grabbed your hand and lapped at your fingertips. Cake and icing went all over them before he took your fingertips in his mouth and sucked on them. You felt a clench in your stomach when he picked up a bit of cake and pushed it into your mouth. Your eyes widened as your lips stretched around his icing covered fingers.

His eyes were locked on you and his tongue lapped at your palm and fingers. It made you shiver as he slowly moved his fingers in and out of your mouth. You flinched slightly as his fingertips drifted closer to the back of your throat, nudging the edges of your comfort zone. Slowly he pulled them out and his lascivious grin made your blood heat. He dipped his fingers in his potent sake and them pushed them back in your mouth. He did it again and went back to sucking your fingertips as the alcohol made your lips and mouth tingle.

His eyes were blazing and his nostrils flared as he dropped a last kiss to your palm. “Stay,” he ordered with a growl.

You stayed on the floor as he pushed himself up and walked to the bedroom. There was a shuffling sound—perhaps a drawer or something being opened and he came back with a tangled wad of what appeared to be scarves or neckties in one clenched fist and a tightly, perfectly wrapped bundle of grey nylon rope in the other.

“I am feeling generous tonight and I will give you a last chance to escape,” he rasped. “To call this a bad joke and leave.”

You just shook on the carpet. On one hand, there was the tempting spice of an unspoken almost-threat in the air. On the other, this very muscular and highly trained man had just downed, what was it?—four cups of sake and his every muscle was still taut under his gleaming skin.

“Answer me, koneko, or I will punish you,” he barked.

He must have been sure of your acceptance before you were even nodding because he tossed the rope to the floor beside you and went to the front door. Taking a ring of keys from its hook, he threw the deadbolt and then hung them up again. Walking slowly up to you like a hunting cat, he knelt behind you. You instinctively leaned back against him, grateful for the warmth boiling of of him. He sat the wad of soft fabric beside you patiently.

“You are mine now,” he whispered unexpectedly softly against the nape of your neck. A fragrant drift of sake slid by on his breath. “And I will do as I please.”

He wrapped the first neck tie around your left wrist. Then another went around your right one and for a moment you could only stare at them—indigo silk with a silver arrowhead pattern next to a royal blue one with discrete silver pinstripes. He gently tugged at the ribbon around your neck, gathering your dumbfounded attention back to him.

“Take off this frilly thing—all of it—and lay down.” He sighed as you shuddered, your head nodding loosely. “I want you to know you are helpless.”

You did as you were told, your breath in uncertain pants. He nodded tightly and wrapped your ankles similarly. Looking down at you, he stroked your skin, his face blank when you trembled. In a serious tone, he whispered, “Perhaps next time I will give you a chance to flee or fight and to see how sweet I will make your defeat.”

“Not now,” you whispered back as he untied the bundle of slick rope.

“No—not now. Instead, I will give you no choice but to submit, no choice but to agree.” He spared you a glance with what might have been pity if it was not a thin mask over pure need. “And I will make your submission complete.”

He tied an elaborate lattice over your skin and down your arms behind you. He cut off a piece of the rope to tie a short length between your ankles. Every time he looped the rope or tied a knot, he laid a soft kiss to your skin. You were all but delirious when he was satisfied with your bonds. Of course, nothing he wanted to touch—your hungry cunt, the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, your swollen breasts with their tight nipples, you quivering ass—was in any way covered or obstructed.

With a wicked smile, he picked up a piece of the forgotten slice of cake and studied it for a moment before dropping it on your chest. Thick, sweet icing seemed cool only for a moment before it seemed to melt like a thick lotion.

Immediately, he was over you and lapping at the sticky mess, smearing it over you. Somehow he got it up to your nipples, suckling on them as if he wanted milk to spurt into his mouth. You whined, arching as much as you could and getting the crumbs and icing all over his chest and top. He wrenched it off and tossed it aside before grinding against your skin and eating the rest of the cake off hungrily. Just as you felt clear of the cake, he poured the cup of sake over your chest and began lapping that up as he straddled your thigh.

His cock ached and he could feel the thin streaks of precum on the cloth covering it. Slowly, he rubbed against your thigh, pushing his fingers inside of you. You were shaking and trembling and he could see that you were shutting down. Your muscles clamped down on his fingers as you let out a helpless moan. It was an electric thrill to feel you pumping futilely against the soft ropes.

You shook as the archer’s fingers went inside you. There was no way to move as his hands gripped the ropes and kept you pinned to the floor. You tried to arch up futilely only to feel the rope tightened.

“No, koneko,” he purred against your skin. “You are in my domain now.”

You were going to ask what he meant, but speech was beyond you as his lips went down. His beard and mustache scraped your prickling skin and you let out a whine. Then his tongue swirled around your clit, lighting you up with excitement. His tongue was as deft as his fingers as it began to lap up your slick.

“Hell—,” you cursed, bucking up.

His hand popped your hip almost absently. “No cursing, koneko.” He nuzzled your thigh roughly, nipping the sensitive skin. You moaned helplessly and he grinned down at you. “I will forbid you from speaking at all if you curse again.”

You only distantly caught his words, giving him a nod as his fingers curled inside you again. One long finger seemed to reach your thundering heart and the other curled just right to that spot that made you scream. You came, shuddering and jerking helplessly.

He patted you gently as you twitched breathlessly. Your eyes barely focused on him as he stood up. You could see he was hard—his cock jutted out, tenting even the carefully pleated hakama. He stood above you, his breath hard as he looked at you. Silently, he went back to the bedroom as you whined on the floor.

There was a long minute that he was picking through things in the bedroom. You shivered, suddenly chilled. He came back with a pillowcase, grinning wickedly as he set it down beside your trembling body. Your eyes went wide as he reached inside and began pulling out a small collection of vibrators and toys—most of which you had seen before. Most. Your puzzlement was on your face as you looked at the huge tent between his legs and then the toys.

He smirked at your confusion and pulled out a long length of golden cloth from the pillowcase. One hand gently went under your head and he slid the cloth over your eyes. You jerked and kicked, trying to shake your head. “N-n-n-no! I don’t—.”

His hand tightened in your hair as he kept wrapping it around your eyes. In a calm and implacable voice, he whispered, “You need not worry, koneko.” There was a moment of shuffling as he tied the knot beside your head. “I will not waste this time.”

“But the last time you.... You tricked me.”

He shrugged—you could only feel it as his shoulders went up and down—and said, “I will do as I please.” He tugged the knot, wiggling your head as he leaned down. You could smell the tang of sake and the sweetness of cake on his breath. “But you will be satisfied, koneko—I promise.”

His low voice made you tremble as he settled his things. “B-b-b-but—!”

As soon as you protested, he jammed a toy into your mouth. Your words were stifled and you jerked, digging your heels into the carpet helplessly as his fingers stroked your throat. Instinctively, you swallowed, your mouth working around the soft toy. He gave an approving sound and began working it in and out, getting you to swallow regularly.

You tried to shake your head—you wanted the real thing, not a toy—but your head was already on the floor and you couldn’t work it out of your mouth. His lips came to your nipples, making you squeal around the toy in your mouth. No sooner had you gotten used to that, then he released your nipple and set a small vibrator against your clit. You bucked against that, grinding as your blood boiled. He didn’t let up with either toy until you screamed your second climax.

This time, he didn’t let you rest—he pulled the vibrator away and his finger gently went to stroking your aching clit. You shook your head the tiny amount he let you, trying to protest that your nerves were burning, but he kept the toy in your mouth, pushing it further back in your throat.

He went back to suckling your breasts, alternating with his tongue and the vibrator until you were wailing. Slick seemed to be running down your thighs as his fingers went back into your core. He whispered, “Do it again, koneko.” You blearily twisted and he smirked as he brushed your clit with the vibrator. “Scream for me.”

He laid on top of you, warm and strong and almost completely out of reach as one leg trapped the cord between your ankles. Abruptly, he was everywhere, his lips drifting between your nipples and your clit and your sopping core. Toys slid into your core and then up to your lips covered in your own slick. You came again with his lips on yours and something between your legs and the vibrator against the tight bud of your ass.

You jerked violently as he pulled back. It was only a moment—a dizzy moment that was jarring because you weren’t being actively provoked towards another orgasm. God, he seemed even warmer as he got back between your legs. Again he was on top of the cord between your ankles, effectively trapping you as your hips curled up.

It began again as soon as he settled his weight. A toy slid into your core as his lips went back to your clit. He began a slow rhythm in and out, waiting for you to catch up. You did, shivering as he began waking your body up. Your mouth hung open helplessly as you sucked in a breath.

“Drink this, koneko,” he ordered softly as he poured the swallow of sake in your open mouth. Then he pushed a piece of cake between your teeth. “Ī ko, koneko.”

His accent made you shiver as he straddled your thigh. It startled you to feel his bare skin and you moaned, only to be silenced by another bite of cake pushed between your teeth. Again the toys went into you in a demanding rhythm, making you shake and twist helplessly. If you trembled and pulled away, he set the vibrator against your aching nerves. If you thrust up against him, he slammed the toys into you, purring against your skin.

“Ī ko, koneko—good girl, kitten.”

Abruptly, you jerked up with a wail. Your thrashing hit something and sake spilled against your skin, making it tingle a bit. He hissed, licking up the alcohol and making you squeal. He pulled away and you managed to roll you to your knees with some vibrating toy in your core making your body shake. All you could tell was that he was behind you, his cock cradled against your ass.

He reached around you to pour another drink. An arm wrapped around your waist, steadying you as his hips pumped against you. The edge of the cup hit your lip gently and you opened your mouth eagerly.

“Drink it all,” he hissed as you twisted eagerly. “Lap it up like a good kitten.”

When you dipped your head to try to sip, he took it away, telling you to lap it up. Finally grasping what he meant, you struggled to lap the sake up from the shallow dish. He purred, letting you take your time as his sweaty body slid against yours as you drank.

His lips slid down your neck patiently as he set the cup aside. “I will wreck you, kitten.” You nodded shakily, agreeing to whatever he wanted as he began plucking at your nipples again. Your ass curled back against him, desperately seeking his warmth.

“Greedy little cat,” he rumbled into your hair.

The cup came back to your lips and you lapped at it eagerly. It made you giddy to be riding the toy with the archer right behind you. His hands were everywhere again, stroking and holding and shifting as your body built up again. He didn’t even try to stop your desperate moaning beyond occasionally putting his fingers or a toy between your teeth so that you could suckle it. Everything felt hot and sticky and you couldn’t move without pressing into an arousing feeling.

Finally he pulled a toy from your mouth and you whined desperately. “Please...please let me please you.”

He sucked in a startled breath and stopped for a breathless second. Then, he laid you down again. Every move ground against you as he mouth roamed all over your body. The vibrator whirred into high gear, dipping into your aching core before pressing against your nipples or your pip. It was impossible to tell what he was doing as the toys switched places and the sake made you impossibly giddy.

You cursed softly again. “Please—I can’t do this again.”

“You can.”

“No....I can’t. It’s too much.”

“Shhhh. You can do it koneko.”

He poured more sake down your throat, spilling some on your writhing body only to lap it up. You shook your head, trying to clear the alcoholic buzz and unable to do more than mix yourself up more. His tongue dipped into your core again, making you arch upwards as your core clenched around the thrusting inside. You shook, your head flailing wildly as the climax kept building. The thrusting turned wild, making you see stars with each scrape inside. The buzzing came back and you whined as you fell a last time over the edge with a scream.

Instantly you were too sensitive—everything throbbing as he pulled away. The toys seemed to melt away like a dream in sunlight and everything became quiet. With infinite gentleness, he scooped you up in his arms and carried you to the huge shower in the bathroom. He settled you on your knees as he adjusted the water to a warm spray and gathered a washcloth and soap.

His hands were large and strong and soothing as he took the shower head down and began rinsing you off. You panted, whimpering and half bucking in your exhaustion. One hand went back down to your thigh, stroking up and down until your breathing followed it as the other held the shower head and kept spraying you both.

The breathing steadied you, but you were truly under the influence of the potent sake and you couldn’t stop weaving against him. You were half convinced he had brought a toy or two with him but it didn’t worry you overmuch as you settled in your kneeling position in the shower. His hands were gentle as they stroked over your body in gentle waves of stroking and resting.

Water poured down your back in a warm band as he leaned away from you. It made you shudder as it rushed down your aching body. Thankfully, he seemed to realize how much you needed it and he kept the water rushing down. You were almost asleep when you felt his finger drift to your lips again. Automatically, you opened your mouth and suckled on them.

His gasped in shock or something and the water wobbled briefly. Unsteadily, he pulled his fingers away and rinsed you all over one more time. With patient strength, he helped you to your feet and undid the slippery knots so that the rope and ties fell at your feet there in the shower. Slowly, he stroked every part of you until you were trembling from exhaustion and buckling in relaxation. He soaped you down quickly and then rinsed one more time before turning off the water and grabbing a towel to wrap around you.

You could only stand there as he dried you off. You tried to give him a pleased sound, but your throat ached and you wove. You gave him a mewl—a shaky sound like the sound of a frightened animal.

“Little kitten,” he purred gruffly. “Hold on.”

You nodded blearily against his shoulder, relying on him to keep you from dropping to the floor. Hanzo scooped you up, towel and all, and laid you on his futon. Instantly you stretched out and sighed into the pillow. That made him chuckle as he pulled a sheet over you. “Nemu-sōna koneko—sleepy kitten.”

You nodded slowly, curling into a loose sprawl. He laid down next to you, stroking your skin gently and slowly. Your voice was a plaintive whisper, “Can I sleep now?”

“Of course, koneko,” he purred in your ear. “Sleep deeply and well.”

Hanzo almost held his breath as you nodded a little and sagged into the futon. Your breath was slow and soft and sake-scented and you were so deeply asleep that you didn’t notice him even when he put an arm around your waist. You didn’t even stir when he scooted up and was against your body entirely.

His nose went to your damp hair, sucking in a deep breath of your scent. He shook as his arm went to your waist, bringing you close to him. You smiled in your sleep, giving him a nice little whimper and leaning against him, and going back to sleep.

He shook from his scalp to his toes as you slept there.

He had—at some forgotten point—decided that there would be a line that he wouldn’t cross. He did respect the cowboy for all that it irritated him that you belonged to the other man. So, he told himself that very first evening—there would be rules that he would not break. He had told himself that you wouldn’t be naked, but that rule was so ridiculous, he had not minded crossing it. Then, he decided it would be completely private—no needed to know his involvement and thereby question why he was constantly trying to be around you. Then he decided he would never—ever—grind his cock against you like an animal. That he would always remain clothed—fully clothed. That he would never.... It didn’t matter, really, because no matter where he drew that line, he leapt across it eagerly.

He tried—he truly tried. You would not allow a dishonorable cur to be near you and he wanted to believe that he could be a man you would at least respect, if not admire. Jesse would not allow him to be near you if the cowboy thought he was taking advantage of you. He could not live with himself if he scared you or disgusted you. He would never live it down if he hurt you.

It was in his nature to claim, to conquer. Indelibly imprinted in his soul was a need to climb to the top of the heap and claim the prize. So, he imposed rules on himself—strict and rigid rules so that he would not ruin himself or you or the fragile and scintillating thread running between you and him. It was like a fragile thread from a spider web that would snap if he pulled too hard.

And—like every other time—he had seen the line in the sand, the mental stand he had taken, and had ignored it. He couldn’t really blame the sake—he was well used to its affects. He couldn’t tell himself the lie that any man would be overcome with such beauty bound on his floor. (Not that you weren’t beautiful like that, but he should not be succumbing so easily to such temptation.) He couldn’t say that he had no choice—not when he had been the one locking the door, handling the ropes, dragging out all the toys he had wanted to use.

He had broken all the rules. You had been blindly pleasured, so wrecked and fucked out that you hadn’t even realized what he had done. He had pinned your legs and pulled away long enough to free his cock. He had meant to only stroke himself as you came, but you had twisted, brushing against his engorged and throbbing member. He almost came right then and had actually nearly dropped the toy he was thrusting into you. Shaking, he had switched the toys around—keeping you confused as he let his cock brush your skin. Then, in the shower, you had leaned into the spray, he had taken his dribbling cock in his hand and grit his teeth as he came to the sight of you in the water. Some of the white seed had hit you as it spurted on his fingers and he had sprayed the water over your back to wipe it away so that you would not know. When your head rolled up, he had reached up to touch your lips only to have you suckle the drops off his fingertips. Even now, he could feel his cock stirring again, desperate to take advantage of your loose-limbed and relaxed state to feel that rushing satisfaction again.

He would not do this again. He would tell the cowboy that he apologized and that he would never do this again. He would give his thanks for the few times he had been so close to you and treasure all of the memories he had like a dragon on its horde. He would caution the cowboy against blindly sharing you and try to let you down easily that he would not see you again. You were intelligent, sensual, beautiful and gentle and you should not be shattered against his hard edges and broken soul. It would be best if he bowed out now, leaving you to be happy with the cowboy.

But, you were soft and sweet in your sleep, dreaming of something that would make you smile. He could curl around you, wrapping you in his warmth for a few more seconds. His rebellious cock grew again, eager to try to find its place inside you and tingling like he had not cum at all. One more rule stood on the brink of destruction.

Reluctantly, slowly, he pulled back from you, untangling from your body. He pulled out some clothes and dressed slowly, his skin aching with the need to touch you. If he went to a hotel, you would be sleeping alone and unprotected, but he could not stay next to you or he would roll you over and be inside you within the hour. He walked to the other room as quietly as he could, to scrape everything into the pillow case and hide it away so that it would not embarrass or distress you, and then went to find some kind of comfortable position to rest.

Unfortunately, the quiet only allowed him to imagine again. His imagination seemed to be in overdrive now. His weary mind already was going over how he wanted you for himself. He could see himself offering you another drink of sake—perhaps even laced with crushed sleeping pills or herbs. He knew every Shimada safe house and could take you to one of the luxurious houses in some remote location. He knew the accounts, the people to talk to in order to tap into that wealth and power again so that he could shower you in jewels and surround you in silk. A little judicious stretching of the truth, and he could again become the powerful and wealthy Shimada kumicho. He knew how to disappear where no one could find him or you and he could drown you in pleasure.

He shook his head sleepily. He could not want that. He wanted to have your smile, your eagerness and pleasure. He wanted to have your eagerness, your bashful giggles and your trust. He ached to shower you with gifts, to decorate your body with jewels, to give you all he could. He wanted to have your laughter, your warmth next to him between his sheets. He wanted to feel your curves—perhaps even feel your belly growing with a baby. He wanted you in designer dresses, in jewels. He would bring you whatever you wished to have you next to him.

He knew he wanted too much. He had broken too many rules, too many times. He knew that he was despicable and detestable. He had taken too many risks, done too many things. He had killed his own brother—how could anyone trust him after that? Particularly with something as precious as a highly sexual and willing pet—a treasure almost beyond price.

He had almost crumpled when you had asked to please him. What had he ever done to deserve that? He didn’t know. He could not believe he had done something so good as to deserve such a reward. The universe had to be punishing him, mocking him by offering him what he wanted most but could not have.

He laughed at himself. His body wanted to claim you. Everything in him begged to take that last, fatal step. He had the apartment locked, he could do it. If he came to you gently, he could even persuade you to accept being bound and helpless for a bit longer. Perhaps he could even get you off the base and on your way to somewhere hidden before you realized his plot. If he thought for one instant you would not hate him forever, he might even now be doing it.

But you would hate him. You would never forgive him. No matter what he did, how much he adored you, what he gave you, you would never be his. You belonged to the cowboy—that stupid man who practically deserved to lose you if he insisted on being so trusting and foolish. Why did that stupid cowboy have to choose him for these little games? Didn’t he know anything?

He would tell McCree that he should...what? That he should keep you away at all costs? That you were courting disaster every moment you spent in his company? That he was being driven to madness? He did not want to lose even these tiny moments with you, but what was then the alternative? He didn’t know what the answer to that was either.

He should do something, if he would only know what. And in the meantime, he would stay out here, saving you from the worst of monsters—himself.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still NSFW. Hanzo pines for you.

It had been two weeks, four days and five hours since Hanzo had seen you. It had been two weeks, four days and four hours since he had told Jesse that he was truly sorry—absolutely truly sorry more than the cowboy would ever know—but he could no longer see you. 

He had gotten a bottle of bold whiskey and gone to yours and Jesse’s apartment. You had smiled and waved at him, going out with friends somewhere and he had bitten the inside of his lip to stop from asking to go with you. Instead, he had settled at Jesse’s table with the cowboy and the bottle and a deck of cards. He had poured the alcohol freely, hoping to settle his nerves and his stop his hands from trembling. The bottle was almost gone when he had gently brought up the subject.

The cowboy had been quiet, nodding slightly, as Hanzo had begun his lengthy explanations that actually said very little. In a very still voice, Jesse had asked what went wrong, what had changed. Hanzo ignored his flaming cheeks and explained that there was nothing—another lie—but that he was bowing out and not going to be available hereafter.

“So...if’n there’s nothin’ wrong, then what’s the problem?”

“I simply do not feel that it is...good for her.” Hanzo had shrugged. “I do not feel that I can...be the correct person—.”

Jesse had snorted rudely. “That’s horseshit.” He glared at the bottle and began shuffling the worn deck of cards again. “She’s happy. Comfortable with you. You ‘n’ I get along and we’ve done good so far.” He shuffled again. “So what’s th’ problem?”

Hanzo shrugged again. “It is not....” He coughed slightly. “I do not feel it is in her interest to continue as we have been.”

Jesse cocked his head. “I still don’t get it. Ya tell me she was good. She’s gotten more confidence and is better at it all.” His dark eyes narrowed slightly as he scratched his scruffy chin. “An’ she was excited ‘bout yer birthday. Did somethin’ happen...?”

Hanzo sighed and stood. “I do apologize.”

He had bowed solemnly and left then, ignoring the fussing cowboy. Trembling in the cool air as he walked back to his apartment, he had been almost blind and deaf. He hadn’t stopped shaking as he unlocked the door and slid inside. He was almost unable to stand as he locked the door behind him and closed the blinds and curtains. Then he turned off all the lights and sat on a chair in the dark silence.

He didn’t know exactly how long he sat there, but he ignored his small phone as it rang. He ignored the soft knock at his door. Then the phone rang again. Then a series of short text messages that he did not trust himself to read.

He managed to get a new schedule where he saw neither you nor the cowboy. It killed him to go out and know that he would not see even a trace of you. He spent days thinking that he might cross your path, that he might have heard you, only find it was not you.

He went out the next week, determined to find someone else to obsess over. He went to the bars, to the clubs. In desperation, he even revisited the awful country bar that Jesse had drug you and him to. There a woman passed him and out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw your hair swaying down her back. As he turned, gaping, she turned as well and he felt horrified that she was not you. Determined, he asked her to dance, got her number and when he was outside, he tore up the napkin and threw the pieces away. Another time, he sat down with another agent at a tea/coffee house and was promptly bored and anxious that no one should see him out like this. So, he offered his apologies that he needed to take a call and walked out.

He did everything he could to avoid even a whiff of your perfume in the hallways. He resolved to be isolated—hardly a new state for him. If he could not have you—and he couldn’t—then he wanted no one at all. And, he reminded himself often when his mind would linger of something of you, he would never have you. He finally accepted it, but not for a moment did he ever think that it was for the best.

Finally, he was able to do his job without praying he would see you. To celebrate that achievement that night, he finally allowed himself to open the chest in his room and pull out his small horde of treasures and momentos. He still had your thin, slick stripper dress from that time in the hotel room along with the frilly hose. He had all the toys, of course. He had the slick gray rope from his birthday and the collection of water stained ties he had padded the rope with. He had the leftover bottle of massage oil and a lacy fake collar with its silly tag.

It started innocently enough, looking at everything and feeling thankful he had even this much. Thanks that you had looked past his family, his history, and even agreed to meet him. Thanks that you had even allowed him to see you, touch your skin. He praised your beauty—everything about you—in his thoughts each night.

He still wanted you. More than his bow. More than his brother who seemed to be surrounded by beautiful people eager for him. More than his next breath. He still wanted to possess you so badly his skin tingled and his body trembled.

He was still desperate. When he finally allowed himself to relax or rest, his mind was filled with daydreams so intense he thought he would get cut on its hard edges. He wanted to be a yakuza again and to sweep in and take you. He wanted to be a monk with a temple high in the mountains so that he could worship you. He wanted to be.... He wanted to be that cowboy.

At some point—some long forgotten point when the loneliness was too much—he had laid down on his futon. He took the oil and smeared it on his stomach, his cock and thought about you giving him that ill-fated massage. He took the toy you had suckled and he put it in his mouth so that he could feel it and imagine it had some small taste of you left on it. He thrust into his palm, his cock aching and throbbing with artificial slick.

A nimble finger drew the dress across his chest. It was so soft, an obscenely gentle caress of memories. Your lips had been this soft, this smooth. His hips pushed up off the futon entirely to try to find what he needed. There was only his hand, sliding against his own skin as he tried to find relief.

His slick hands cupped his tight balls, feeling the heavy sack with its slightly pebbly skin and sparse, crisp curls. His tip was ruddy and he saw a few drops pearl out of the top. The shaft with its dark veins throbbed as his fingers circled it.

Hanzo threw back his head into his pillows. Spitting out the toy, he took in a deep shuddering breath and tried to grasp his cock hard enough to take the edge off. A shuddering hand snatched up the rope and he stretched it over his body to glory in it as it abraded his skin. It scraped him like fingers.

His hips began pushing up and down into his fists, helplessly. It was too close to what he wanted and not close enough. Everything was so soft and scented and lonely. It made him hurt with desperation and darkening lust.

His mind whirled into fantasy. Tying you down to a bed—a picture of loveliness—and having you whining for more seemed almost real. He wanted you in a garden with soft pink petals floating down to your skin. A vision of you in the rain with a deluge making your clothes almost transparent and he craved more. He knew all of the mostly innocent fantasies and knew you had fulfilled them. It was the dark ones you hadn’t even seen yet. The dark ones that made his blood boil. He wanted you in every way he knew.

In his fantasy, in the dark of his own room, he let his mind go free. He imagined owning you. Not borrowing or being given tastes, but owning you body and soul. His dark soul imagined the scrawl of his family crest tattooed between your breasts, permanently marking you as his for anyone to see. He imagined a wide silver collar set with small pearls and sapphires around your neck with his name carved deep into it and keeping the key next to his skin. He imagined you in some exotic home that he alone had the key for. He even imagined a large cage—somewhere that you could not escape, as a play area for pleasure. He imagined piercing your nipples and exotic silver or platinum rings with little sapphire bangles on them that matched the ones dangling from your ears because he liked the appearance and there were only so many ways to dangle jewels from you, after all.

He imagined your name tattooed on his skin, surrounded by dragons. Somewhere that he could touch discretely whenever he wanted to think of you. Your name in dark blue circled by a dragon and lightning. The pulsing of the needle, drawing your name onto his skin, making him shudder with pleasure-pain and making him groan with agonized joy.

You would be afraid of these things. Horrified.

His mind turned towards one of the brothels he had owned. It was his favorite, one of the first businesses he had started as the Shimada Scion. He had furnished the entire place with leather and satin and velvet. The suite he had designed so carefully in his youthful lust had held a playground of possibilities. He had seen several lovely women who were now utterly forgettable in that suite and his mind pictured you there.

You would be beautiful in the wrought iron cage like a lovely jungle cat. You would be even more lovely against the pole on the platform in the corner of the room, your body flexing and bowing and twisting as you danced in the slender high-heeled shoes he chose for you. You would bring him strong drink in the crystal tumblers he had insisted on each room having.

There was a thick, soft bed in that favorite room, with heavy rings in the bed frame. He would lay you there, opening up his heavy briefcase to show you the array of jewelry there. He would set the silver collar first, locking it tight and ordering you to pull on it to show him it would hold you as he held the dangling ring. He would pull out a heavy bracelet with its dripping silver loops next, showing you the heavy ring that dangled from it by a silver chain, before sliding the ring on your finger—your ring finger on your left hand, by design—and then locking the bracelet on you. Then a matching bracelet on your other wrist.

Would you whisper for his mercy then—locked in silver jewelry adorned with his name and carved with his family crest? Or would you cry out when the needle began drawing his crest on your skin? Would you cling to him when he had your nipples pierced and set silver rings in you?

No, he would not let you fear or quake in pain. He knew every drug made and sold on the streets of Japan. You would not fear, not hurt. He would give you something—a gentle cocktail of his own making mixed by his own hands—that would numb the pain and dull your fear. He would cushion you on the bed and hold the goblet to your lips, telling you to drink it all like a good pet. You would be groggy then, wrapped in the luxurious sheets and blanket and locked in his jewelry. Perhaps he would even let you bat at the key on its golden chain around his neck like a kitten as you yawned up at him.

He would make sure that the crest was drawn swiftly and beautifully. The piercings he would make sure that you didn’t fear or feel—two swift strikes and it would be done. He would brush ointment to the tattoo himself to ensure it healed well and clean your body often. They would mark you as his own forever. No matter if you managed to slip the jewelry off or pick the locks, you would bear his mark.

If you were his.

He gasped, seeing you in his mind’s eye like that. His hands shook and tightened and went faster. Your eyes—he wanted your eyes to be dark with passion. He wanted you to love the marks, to caress them with happiness and longing. He wanted you to adore them, to want to show them off. He wanted you to enjoy them, to wear clothing to show them off.

His hips shot up and down like a piston, filling the apartment with a thumping sound as he bit back his groans. In his fantasies, you were his. He would not be so foolish as to share you—he was not naive or overly trusting like the cowboy. He would not let you wander far from his side. He would reward you with pleasure, overwhelm you with hunger and need and want as he came inside you. Every place he would touch would have his name, his mark, his crest on it to show the world that you were his.

“Mine!” he growled at your phantom form. He would mark you gently, beautifully and his seed would fill you in every way. And if fate was kind, then you would bear him children, your beauty and worth only growing in his eyes as your body changed and swelled with the baby. The seed he wanted for you—in you—burst out in a geyser of milky white over his hands as he gasped your name.

He almost regretted it now, going to the cowboy’s apartment. It was almost enough to make him regret it—all this heat and useless, wanton wanting. All this pain that racked through him as he wanted you from a distant and shadowed sideline. But, you were never his to want, were you? Only the sometimes gift of your time and heat as the cowboy felt like sharing. You were never his to master, to own except in his dreams.

It was like the folk stories, wasn’t it? The elusive spirit—the kindly kami—coming in to heal and bless and pleasure for only a short time before vanishing from where it came. There was a story of a crane coming in to help a weaver, acting as a wife and mother before the weaver found out and she left again. It was like his dragons—coming out briefly in a blaze of fireworks and spirit only to inevitably disappear.

Did he really think it was different for him? Did he really think he had ever done anything to deserve such a priceless gift? No—he hadn’t done anything that pure, that good. He could only buy it or steal it, making it worthless. Did he hope anyway? Of course he had, like the fool he had always been. He wanted. He craved. He desired. Like an idiot who had been told not to touch the hot pot on the stove, he had reached out and gotten burned. But did he learn? Did he listen the next time? Of course not. He reached out again and again, eager for the sticky melted sweetness inside.

As his body shuddered with the afterglow of his release, he prayed to see you in his dreams that night. Not that he deserved such sweet dreams—no one who thought such things about such a lovely, wonderful person deserved an ounce of sweetness in their sleep—but he still prayed to for it because he told himself that it was the only way he’d see you again.


	6. Chapter 6

Hanzo sat back in his chair, sipping from his delicate little cup of sake in one hand and looking at the open book in his other hand. He wasn’t really reading, more posing and staring at the pages without interest. A costly store mannequin could not be more beautifully posed, nor a painting more solemn and thoughtful.

Normally, he would have loved this solitary time. A storm had rolled in and pounded his windows with rapid taps and the occasional roll of thunder and theatrical flash of lightning. He had completed his duties and had some rare downtime to spent in the quiet of his apartment to do as he wished. For a long time, it was his highest pleasure to do this—sit and read quietly. But now it seemed to have an odd sort of hollowness as if something was lacking. 

Hanzo supposed that he might—at some point—pick up his violin lessons again. It would relieve his apparent dissatisfaction or at least fill a few hours of his time. He hadn’t played seriously since he was a child, but perhaps it was time to do it again. He was actually more curious about drums, but he could hardly have a full set in this apartment. Besides, it was incredibly humorous to select an instrument that used a “bow” and he sorely needed something—something else—to stir his jaded and worn humor.

He kept staring at the open pages without seeing them. Mechanically, his hand brought the cup up to his lips. He had long since stopped actually tasting it, but his hand still came up like clockwork. The buzzing sound of his tiny phone pulled him from his thoughts. Slowly, he answered it.

“Anija!” Genji crowed in his usual way. “Hey—could you look around for my badge? I think I dropped it in your apartment.”

“That was careless of you,” Hanzo grunted.

“Yeah,” Genji chirped, unabashed. “But could it kill you to look?”

“Very well,” he sighed. The badge was easily spotted on his table. “Do you wish to get it now?”

“Not right at this exact moment, but I’ll need it before tomorrow.” There was a long pause and Hanzo sighed to hear voices and club music in the background. “How about when I get back to base?”

“And when will that be?”

“I don’t know. Maybe an hour or something?” His voice went soft and crackled as he cooed to someone. “Maybe later.”

Hanzo rolled his eyes. Trust Genji to be too busy partying to worry about anything else. “I will leave on the hook by the door.” He snorted, “I trust that you can get in and out discreetly?”

“Thanks!” Genji gushed, but Hanzo could not tell if it was to him or not. “And Han—don’t worry about leaving the door unlocked.”

Before Hanzo could say anything else, Genji gave an indistinct burble and there was a crash. A racket filled his ear for a brief second and then the connection went silent. With a sigh, he hung the badge up on its lanyard on the hook by the door. It would not matter if he left the door locked or not—Genji could pick most any lock and would simply come in to get it. So all that remained to hope for would be that he would leave equally discretely.

Going back to sit, he looked at the book again. At some point, he had to admit—even to himself—that he was seeing nothing, doing nothing. With a sigh, he set aside the book and cup, trying to figure out what to do with his time since he had no hope of seeing you and could not manage to find anyone else who even came close.

He went through his apartment, turning off the lights and setting things out for the next day. The storm raged outside in a soothing hum, making him feel more settled than he actually was. He needed to find something to do with his spare time, he supposed, and so he went through the pointless list of things that might take him mind off his...obsession.

He could go back to playing the violin. Or perhaps another instrument. He had a hundred or more books that he wanted to read—sort of. Perhaps it was time to write his thoughts down and begin some memoirs or something. Or teach....

He was carefully shelving the book when he heard a knock at the door. Perhaps he had taught Genji something about decorum after all. Usually he either simply burst in or picked the lock without a second thought. With a lecture firmly in mind, he went and opened it.

You stood there, shivering in the downpour with your arms hugging your middle. The rain had turned your thin shirt nearly transparent and dripped off of your loose, casual skirt as it clung to your thighs. You shuddered with your hair plastered to your head and rain dripping from every part of you.

Hanzo’s mind went numb to see almost every detail of your body. You made his throat dry and every part of his body seemed to almost vibrate with a sudden rush of excitement. He had slogged through weeks without seeing you, dreading every moment because he knew that you would not ever appear in his life again. He had finally gotten used to the desolation and the dry desert of his life, telling himself he was finally at peace with the solitude.

He knew he was lying every time he told himself he was content.

You looked up at him, shuddering and giving him the most mournful look. He shuddered to hear your soft mewl, see your shy smile. In a plaintive voice you asked, “C-c-can I come in?”

He nodded solemnly and stood back as you stepped inside. The door closed and he gave you a shallow bow. “Let me get you a towel.” You nodded, sneezing into your elbow. “Stay there.”

His hands were shaking as he brought you a huge towel. You were so bold now—stripping off the soaked through clothes and handing them to him without thinking. It was entirely in self defense that he wrapped the big towel around you and then turned away to go to the bathroom. He wrung the soaked things out in the shower, forcing himself not to rut into them or bury his nose into them. His cock was immediately hard and throbbing—aching before you even stepped into his apartment looking like a drowned cat—but there was no time to take care of that when he could hear you sneeze again and again.

Taking out one of the traditional haori coats and another towel, he slunk cautiously closer to you and wrapped you into it. “What has happened, koneko? Why are you out in the rain?”

You shuddered as he wrapped the big garment around you and then patiently wrapped the dry towel around your head and hair. “I was out for a walk and...got caught on the walking trail when the storm started.” You flushed, staring up at him. “It wasn’t so bad because I got to one of the picnic shelters, but then it got dark....” 

He gave you a half-hearted glower that was ruined when he smirked. “And you did not know that we should expect the storm to continue all night?” You shook your head with another blush on your cheeks. “If you were not so cold, I might—.” He grunted sourly and turned away suddenly, crossing his arms and turning away. “And why are you here?”

You bit your lip, staring at his immense back. “I...I saw that your light was on and thought that I’d try to come over.” He grunted sourly again, every muscle tensing. “I...I wanted to talk to you.”

He growled and pointed towards the chairs in his sitting area. “Sit down and get warm.” With an irritated sigh, he picked up his phone and began thumbing through his contacts. “I will call Jesse.”

“J-J-Jesse doesn’t know I am here,” you admitted, nodding slowly and shuddering in embarrassment. “I just thought that maybe you’d talk to me if...if I was alone.”

He sighed and closed his eyes impatiently. Rubbing his nose, he told his cock that there was no point in getting so excited when he was going to send you away as soon as he could. You would never be his and there was no reason to pretend anything else was going to happen. Still, his cock and that ungovernable part of his soul that lusted after you were in agreement that making you go out in the rain would be cruel—especially in his coat and with his towel. So he gestured towards the chairs again.

You slunk around him and went to sit down in a little huddle. You looked for all the world like a lost child, waiting for someone to take you back home where you’d be safe and get an ice cream. You looked up at him and gave one of those shy little shivers and a soft mewl.

Sitting across from you, he pressed his fingertips together in a vague triangle. Glaring at you, he closed his eyes to clear his mind for a moment and then looked at you. “So...what did you want to say?”

You went pale—so pale he was almost sure you would faint—and whispered, “Why...why don’t you like me anymore?”

He choked, coughing heavily. His eyes bugged out for a moment and he coughed again, trying to swallow the words in his throat. “I—I...I like you just fine.”

“But you don’t,” you whimpered. “You...you don’t...not any more.”

“I do not.... I never did—stop liking you.” He could see tears filling your eyes, your mouth frowning in a pout. “I....” He sighed, rubbing his forehead again. “I did not feel it was a good thing for you—for us—.”

You looked heartbroken and his heart broke seeing it. “So...you don’t? You won’t—any more?” You shuddered again. “But why?”

“I could not,” he whispered. “I just could not—.”

“Tell me why!” you demanded, your cheeks suddenly red and your face in a snarl. “Tell me why this...is a problem.”. You let out a sob. “What did I do wrong?!”

Suddenly he barked out a harsh laugh. There was no way he could say anything but the truth to such a question. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?!”

“You did nothing wrong,” he sighed, looking away, as he silently admitted that he was the one with the problem. “You did nothing wrong...at all.”

He grit his teeth to answer you with some semblance of civility. You had never done anything wrong in this whole affair. You were perfect—a perfect, sensual and adoring little pet. He was the one who had brought in his filth and his disgusting need, making you dance to the tune his cock had set. He had been at fault, unable to think clearly and unable to discipline himself....

You looked like you weren’t convinced, your eyes wide and rimmed with tears as you watched him from your timid huddle in the chair. He sighed, debating what lie would spare you the most pain. The truth would surely appall you, if not terrify you—his dirty fantasies were best left in the darkness of his solitary dreams. With a sigh, he tried to sidestep with, “You were fine—good. I simply decided that it would not be in your best interest to continue—.”

“Why?”

He blinked nervously. “You are doing well with Jesse—.”

You cocked your head, puzzling over his words. “Is...that what the problem is? That I’m seeing Jesse?”

He swallowed the ‘YES’ in his throat, choking on its dryness. “Of course...not. It is simply not in your best interests—.” You glowered, your lower lip pouting out like a tempting candy. “I could not risk you....”

“I thought you liked it.” A lonely little tear went down one cheek. “I thought you...enjoyed it—at least a little.”

“I did, koneko.”

You shook your head, shuddering in his immense coat and pulling your legs up. As your chin went to your knees, Hanzo bit his tongue to stop staring at the tempting swell of your bottom from under the edge of the haori. Your arms went around yourself as though you were cold. “I thought...I though that you might, you know, relax. Enjoy it.” Your voice went shrill and trembled far more than you wanted. “I wanted to be a good pet and I wanted you to...to—shit. I wanted you t-t-to...be happy.”

As if his heart could not break more, he stuttered out, “I...I was happy—very happy, koneko.”

“Then why?!” Your eyes went wide and somehow you went even more pale. “I.... God, I thought...maybe.... I thought maybe I was not...not good enough.” Hanzo flinched visibly, a tic in his cheek jerking. “Is that it? I mean—you’ve been all over the world. Seen all kinds of women...like me. Maybe...is it that I’m not pretty enough?”

He couldn’t say anything. He couldn’t move, could barely breathe, because fire was coursing through him like a drug. His dick was trying to do the thinking for him and even that insensible monster was repelled by the mere notion that you were thinking you were not loveliness itself in his eyes.

“You are...so beautiful, koneko,” he rasped out finally. “You know that you are absolutely beautiful.” His hands shook despite their desperate grip on the chair arms. “I have always thought you were perfect—.”

You snorted angrily and frowning. “You never...you never....” A flush colored your cheeks. “You never cum. You never let me—.” You sucked in a shaky breath and looked aside. “You never let me please you. Or—or do anything!”

Hanzo grit his teeth, trying to figure out what to say. Your words made him ache more as he was torn between comforting you and simply giving into the glorious rut he told himself you both wanted. “I thought...I was doing what was best for you.”

“How was that what was best?!” you sniffled angrily. “I wanted to be...be what you wanted. And now you won’t tell me what went wrong.” You wiped at your eyes. “You said that I could trust you—that I could—.”

“Could what?” he asked softly with a wince.

“I want to trust you! I want to be able to talk to you and...figure out all of this.” You sniffled again. “I can’t talk to anyone else about these kinds of things.” You shook your head, burying your face in your knees with another fiery blush. “I just can’t talk to anyone else about all these...things and no one else understands it. No one else can understand all—.”

He took in a shaking breath. “I...I know it is...difficult for you,” he said. “But this is for the best.”

“How is me being alone in this for the best?!”

He only nodded, trying to act like a sage advisor who was not supposed to throw you on his bed. “It is...for the best that you and Jesse keep your...games private—.”

“The games that you were teaching us!” you snapped back. “And now you won’t tell me why you stopped.”

He tried as hard as he could to move as slowly as he was able so that he could lean over to reach out to you. “Koneko, you are perfect and beautiful.” He fumbled mentally for some kind of idea and grabbed the first one he could manage to force out of his brain. “Stay with Jesse and be...be safe.”

“Safe?!”

“Be safe,” he whispered. You refused to take his hand, turning away. So, on unsteady knees, he stood up to try to reach for you. Taking in a shuddering breath, he saw you look at him hesitantly. “I want to be sure you are safe.”

Your mewl broke his heart. “But I thought I was safe with you?”

He sighed, accepting the inevitable lies that were going to come. He went with the first one he thought of because it sounded threatening, but not evil. “I have tried to make you safe, but I...I do not play safe games.” You were finally nodding at him, and he hoped it was a sign of understanding at last. “I am...was yakuza and I do not play safe games.”

“What?!”

“I do not...,” he choked out. “I do not enjoy the safe little games that you and Jesse play.” He shrugged a little to try to be more convincing. “They are...not satisfying.”

Your whole body was all but shaking as you stared up at him. He nodded to himself, telling himself—again—that this lie was for the best. “Not...not satisfying?”

“Yes, koneko,” he whispered hoarsely.

There was a long pause of silence and he prayed you were going to let it stop there. Then your wounded eyes hardened in a glare that shook him to the bone. When you finally spoke, you hissed, “Then what does it take?” He was shocked, taking a half step back. “What are the games that you would find...satisfying?”

His whole body went stiff, every muscle hard and aching. “What...?”

“You don’t like what we were doing. So, what would you like?!”

“What would...I like?!” His body shook. You seemed to know how hard he was underneath the carefully pleated and loose clothes, how hard it was for him to even speak. Caught in his lie, he struggled to find something to say. “You would not want to play those games, koneko.”

Your fierce, watery growl surprised him. “Try me.”

He had no ready answer for that, but the lies were drowning him, strangling him. “My games?” Grasping again at straws, he snapped, “If you were...playing my games, this would be very different, koneko.”

You finally unfolded, staring up at him and scowling. “You are all talk,” you hissed angrily. “For a ‘yakuza’,” you curled your fingers in angry sarcasm, “you are a teddy bear and you don’t....”

His eyes narrowed and he shook. His voice dropped to a growl. “If we were playing my games, koneko, you would be naked and on all fours in front of me.”

He expected you to be repelled, disgusted as his carnal needs and cowardly lies came out. Instead, you stood up and took off the haori, shook off the towel. Naked, you did go on all fours in front of him, glaring up angrily at him. He retreated slowly, gaping at you. “What?!”

“So show me what your satisfying games are.”

Before he could react, you had crawled hesitantly forward. Your hands went to grip the ties of his hakama, loosening them and tugging the waist down. He shuddered as you went to work, untangling his obi and tugging on the kimono jacket. Then your hands went to his underwear, fumbling with the layers of cloth to pull them aside.

“Down, koneko,” he choked out, backing up and stumbling against the chair. “Down, pet.”

You shook your head, tugging at him with determination. “Make me.”

His hiss echoed in the apartment. When his obi fluttered aside, he snatched at it and began to wrap it around your head to blindfold you again. He could satisfy you quickly—he had to—and then you both could retreat before the bonfire burned you both. You shook your head, ducking and mouthing the cloth covered ridge underneath his clothes. Your lips kept pushing, stroking right where he wanted it the most. Finally, he gripped your hair and pulled you off.

“No, koneko,” he whispered hoarsely. “You belong...be—belong to Jesse. He will be—.”

You tugged in his grip with a whine of frustration. His grip only tightened as his eyes blazed down to you. “Jesse—he’s....”

“He is a good man, koneko.” Hanzo sighed, growling at his own impatience. “You are not going to dishonor him by—.”

“He’s bi!” you shouted at him, tears running down your cheeks. His hands tightened in your hair and around your face. “He likes both of us.”

“What?!” Hanzo dropped to the chair clumsily, his mind utterly shaken and unable to fathom what was happening. “What are you saying, koneko?”

You tugged back and out of his grasp, tears going down your cheeks. “Jesse is bisexual—he likes guys and girls.” You sobbed as you knelt there. “It...it’s hard because he is scared that people aren’t going to—to approve of him. That they aren’t going to understand—.” Another hiccuping sob and you shook on the carpet. “He...he was going to tell you, but...you stormed out and you haven’t....”

“I wasn’t listening,” he whispered with a nod. “Tell me now, koneko.”

“He thinks you’re beautiful,” you hissed. “He loved—loves—looking at you and watching you as much as me.” You whipped your hand at your tears. “It’s why he was s-s-so happy to go to you t-t-the first time. We talked a long time about it and he was thrilled that you said yes because he didn’t know how else to even talk to you.”

Hanzo shook as you crawled forward again. Helpless, he watched as you scrambled forward to kneel between his sprawled knees. You looked up at him again. “He had no problem with what we were doing. He got so excited about it that he couldn’t wait to try to see it again.” Hanzo shook his head again. “He was never going to stop us. He didn’t want to mess it up, though—by trying to talk to you himself. He thought you’d be...be disgusted and angry and try to—.” Your eyes went wide and uncertain. “Is that why you stopped?”

He shook his head, an unexpected and confusing relief making him dizzy and uncentered. Just you kneeling between his legs was enough to wreck his thinking, but the thought that Jesse was not some monster sadistically bent on tormenting him with your body was enough to send him spinning into a whirl.

Your hands on his knees brought him back to the present. Without more than another soft grunt, he pulled you on his lap. Your legs spread on either side of his just as eagerly as your fingers began digging in his clothing. The first brush of your fingertips freed him, released his cock and you shifted restlessly, dragging it to your core.

He shook his head and pulled your hands to your sides. His face went solemn and his eyes went wide as he stared into your eyes. “I...I—.”

“What?” you whispered.

His face went cherry red and he gave you a shy smile. “I am...not like Jesse.” He shrugged again nervously. “I am...that is, I may...not—.” He shuddered and seemed to squirm. “I am not...I am probably not as...as—.” He swallowed heavily, his throat dry and his cheeks pink. “I might not be as large as Jesse.”

You stared at him blankly for a moment. This was what he was nervous about?! He was worried that...he wasn’t...endowed?! What?! Things seemed to shift in a strange way as things seemed to make a strange sort of sense.... You shuddered and brushed a kiss to his cheek.

Sliding off his lap, you dipped your head and your fingers got to work, sorting through the layers of clothing to pull out more of his cock. Your mouth somehow was watering and was dry at the same time. Tugging gently at his clothes, you finally got out his cock and balls and began lapping at them.

Hanzo gasped, his head jerking back and almost standing as your moist lips trailed down the throbbing shaft and your fingers stroked his balls. Curses and praises were on the tip of his tongue as you took him into his mouth, your lips locked to his skin. He forced himself to sit again, to stroke the back of your head and tangle his fingers in your hair.

Wickedly, you suckled hard on him for a moment more before your fingers circled his shaft and you looked up at him. Your eyes were warm and wide as you stared up at him. “You are...beautiful. Perfect.”

His eyes blazed down at you in heat and glory. His teeth gritted together and his jaw was clenched. His skin prickled and beads of sweat glistened down from his brow. His hands were gentle, but they jerked nervously, anxiously. His neck was flushed and every line of his body was tensed and hard.

“More,” was all he could croak out.

Immediately, your head went down and he groaned to feel your tongue wrap around the oversensitive head of his cock. Your lips worked at his skin, your mouth suckling him hard enough that you pulled a spurt of cum out of him. You swallowed it eagerly, gulping it without hesitation.

Instantly, his hips thrust upward. Your head bobbed and you let out a whine as his cock hit the back of your throat. You clumsily swallowed again and the rippling shot through him like an arrow through his heart. His hands shook in your hair, torn between tugging you down and ripping you off his cock before he exploded. He couldn’t stop himself in time and a climax shot out.

You kept going, though, kept gulping him down like nothing he had ever felt. His cock shuddered, oversensitive and tingling as he tried to calm down. You knew to release him, your lips gentle as you pulled back. He didn’t have to tell you that he would be achingly sensitive.

But you had no idea how much he had wanted this. You had no idea how long he had been thinking of doing exactly this. How many times he had cum into his fist, only to do it again almost immediately afterwards until his balls were drained dry and his skin trembled.

In short, he was prepared for this.

A few minutes after that, as you leaned against his knee and he crooned in Japanese to you, he was hard again. It was almost as if he had not cum at all. Your eyes went wide and your mouth opened. He grinned at you and tugged on your shoulders, pulling you up on his lap. He smiled even more as your legs settled open, on the outside of his and again you pulled his cock to your needy core.

He slid inside, amazed at the thick slick that poured out of you. Far from terrified or disgusted as he had feared, you were warm and welcoming and eager. You were shivering as his hands gripped your arms and he pulled you down even as his hips thrust up. His cock filled you sharply, making you gasp and whine with a smile on your face.

He growled, pushing you up and down on his cock like a man possessed. You felt like warm velvet heaven as you bucked. Hanzo panted, his teeth gritting together in a grin as his hips slid up and down like a piston.

You couldn’t take in a deep breath as he kept moving, his hands gripping your arms. Finally, you were sobbing helplessly as the dragon kept going with almost inhuman strength. Tears streamed down your cheeks in relief and joy and fulfillment. You mumbled out your thanks, your pleasure making you almost incoherent.

His legs shifted to gather underneath you and it seemed he was going even harder. Hanzo growled deep in his barrel chest, his face fierce as he buried himself deep inside you. In another time and place, he would have looked murderous as his cheeks puffed in and out and his face turned red. But to you he looked only single-minded and determined, eager to have you feel his tumultuous lust.

“You are...are w-w-wonderful,” he growled, bending his head so that his cheek grated against your belly. 

“So are you!” you wept. A shudder of pleasure shot through you and you came before you could catch your breath, riding his thrusting. All you could think of was a disjointed series of thanks and pleasure and relief that this was finally happening. “I...I—I can’t....” You yelped as he shifted slightly and hit some new tangle of nerves. “Don’t...stop!”

His eyes narrowed in pleasure and burned as he looked at you. His grin was sex itself. “I will never stop!” He ground into you and took your tight nipple into his mouth. You jerked, your arms jerking helplessly as your hands reached for him. Accidentally, your nails scratched him as another roll of pleasure shot through you. “I will never stop. And you will never—.”

Then a new voice cut in, “Hanzo?! What is going on?”

Genji stood in the doorway, his badge hanging from its limp lanyard and dangling from his fingers. In a rare moment of...maybe informality, he had peeled off his face plates and head armor. He almost looked...whole. Unfortunately, he seemed rooted to the spot, his mouth gaping wordlessly and his skin growing pale and almost as gray as his armor.

Hanzo growled, every muscles tensing. He spat out a stream of obvious profanities—obviously cursing even to someone who did not speak Japanese. Immediately, he wrapped his arms around you; his hands spreading wide as if to cover you.

“I-I-I...,” Genji was still gaping as his eyes turned towards you. “I thought...you—Jesse?”

Hanzo bellowed, jerking away and grabbing the first thing his hands could touch—his silky haori. “Get the hell out!”

“I’ll...go get Jesse—,” the younger brother mumbled, his cheeks going red. His anxious gaze went to the scratches on his elder’s skin, the bright red fingerprints on your skin. You saw the wheels turning, saw him drawing the wrong conclusion as Hanzo’s hands tightened and his arms gripped you almost painfully tighter. “This.... No—Hanzo, you didn’t—.”

Hanzo’s bellow made you jump and shriek. One hand released you and he tucked his suddenly soft cock back into his clothes. “I’m warning you....”

“Don’t tell me you....” He swallowed heavily as his brother growled. His eyes went wide as he looked at you. “I’m getting help—.”

“Do it and I will kill you,” Hanzo hissed.

Genji looked like a timid kitten, his shoulders hunched and his almond eyes wide. All of a sudden, he bolted out the door. He didn’t even pull it shut behind him and it cracked against the wall as he crashed back outside.

In an instant, Hanzo was up, his hakama pulled up as he pulled a hidden sword and belt of pouches from somewhere. The very next moment he was bellowing Genji’s name with a fresh string of harsh, guttural curses. By the time you had pulled on your cold and damp clothes, you heard nothing, could see nothing of where they might have gone except a single overturned garbage can on the corner of the street.

Minutes passed and nothing else happened. The black alley cat that had multiple families feeding it slunk across the street before disappearing into some bushes and followed by the sound of a trashcan tipping with a galvanized clang.

Despair and some other fluttery, anxious emotion filled you as you slowly realized that they were gone. A cool shiver went down your spine, hoping nothing was wrong. Of course there was—Hanzo and Genji both had pride and tempers for any three people. And now, who knew what was happening?

You blindly got your shoes and closed the door behind you. Tears kept going down cheeks. Hanzo was so proud, so stubborn and your chance to finally get some answers—to get him to talk at all and finally end this frustrating stalemate—and it was ruined by a stupid accident. Even worse, it was ruined by Genji....

It wasn’t until the next day that you heard anything at all. At the after lunch all-hands meeting, Genji was listed as being on “medical leave”. Well, while that could mean anything from his slipped and felt to...whatever, but you glanced at the corner that Hanzo usually lurked in and found it was empty and you knew it was bad.

You couldn’t get a hold of Jesse immediately afterwards, either, so you left him a message and went to the medical wing. It was blessedly quiet and you found the ninja’s room easily. Sliding inside, you shivered to see his unshielded head wrapped in bandages and several huge dents in his armor. His right arm was...shortened, wires and cords and tubes coming out of his elbow and feeding into a waist high machine beside the bed.

“Fuck,” you whispered, patting his other hand. “What the hell happened?”

Genji jerked a little when you spoke, cracking open a swollen shut eye. He seemed unfocused, staring ahead. He said something so softly you weren’t sure you heard it. Then he closed his eyes again and sighed heavily. Mercy came in then, and shooed you out to do her examinations.

Shivering, you went walking. Nowhere in particular as long as it was in the relatively warm sunlight. You would stop at some random place to try to stop shivering, only to be prodded to move when someone came along. It wasn’t until someone said Hanzo’s name that you lingered.

“...and no one knows what to do with Hanzo,” someone said.

“What?!” squawked another voice.

“Yeah—he is locked up now,” said the first with a gossip’s careless, unmistakeable glee. “Since Genji isn’t awake and able to say anything, and Hanzo was charging across the base with a sword and screaming he was going to kill Genji—what else were they supposed to do?”

“My God—who would have thought?” the second voice said in dismay. “I thought that they were—you know—civilized.”

“I know, right? I mean—this kind of thing must be acceptable in...what was it—? Yakuza circles. But I thought that it meant something to Genji at least to be a part of Overwatch.”

The second person sighed, “That’s because you have a crush on the cyborg playboy.” There was a dissatisfied grunt. “But I guess you can’t take the criminal out of the Shimada.”

The two agents moved around you, going down the sidewalk with their high-pitched gossiping. You shuddered, suddenly violently cold, as you turned around. All but running down the sidewalks, you went to the one building you never thought you’d go near—the disciplinary building. You didn’t think about the concertina wire and fences and barred windows as you kept going. You showed your identity badge, signed the forms and kept going down the cement block lined hallways with the guard before your common sense and sense of self-preservation took back control and made you go home where you belonged.

You were led to a small room with a series of small desks on each side of a thick, reinforced glass. On each desk was a small phone and you stared at it with another cold shiver. You were about to turn around and leave when there was a soft sound. Another guard in thick body armor escorted Hanzo to the desk on the other side of the glass from you.

You swallowed heavily, tears in your eyes to see him like that. There was a short length of chain between his ankles and a set of thick handcuffs and a chain going between them from his waist to his ankles. He had on a thin set of junky looking orange pants and a thin t-shirt that made the institutional slippers on his feet look even more pathetic. His hair was flowing down his back in messy lines that seemed careless and sad. The movements that were usually so graceful, so confident and so sure and now were hobbled and restrained. The cuffs were so tight around his thick wrists that you were surprised that he wasn’t bleeding.

He stared at his feet as he shuffled forward to the bench that was bolted to the floor. There was a moment as the guard locked the ankle chains to the floor. Then the chain from his ankle to his wrists was undone and looped through some other ring at the end of the desk that you couldn’t see. He looked down at the chains without stopping, not even glancing at you.

The guard picked up the phone and hit some buttons so that your phone rang. You picked it up slowly, your hand shaking so badly you were sure you’d drop it. The guard scowled at you as you whispered, “H-h-h-hello?”

“You have ten minutes,” he grunted. “This is recorded.”

“Oh...okay,” you whispered.

“Yeah—you are a strange one—seeing this scum,” he growled. “But anyway—hang up when you’ve had enough of him.”

You were blinking back tears as he gave the phone to Hanzo. The chained man took it with a soft, automatic word that sounded like thanks and put it up to his ear. Then he had to look up at you—stare at you with a dumbfounded expression of shock.

He jerked up, his chained hand slamming against the glass clumsily as a silly half grin spread on his face. “Koneko!”

The guard immediately took out his club and slammed him between the shoulders. Hanzo grunted in pain, going down to the bench and dropping the phone. You screamed and pounded the glass as the archer wove and sat up again. 

The guard picked up the phone and snapped at you, “I don’t know why you want to talk to this criminal, but another outburst like that and he’ll be in solitary for the next two days.” He glared at you through the glass. “Just hang up when you’ve had enough and we’ll cart him away.”

Impatiently, the guard shoved the phone into his hand and you heard a crackled threat and moaning as Hanzo blinked unsteadily and panted. After a shaky moment, he nodded at nothing and cradled the phone close to his head. Pushing himself up, he whispered hoarsely, “Koneko....you’re...you’re here.”

“Yes!” you all but shouted. “Yes, I am here.”

Timidly, you pressed your fingers to the glass. He smiled slowly and put his fingers right up to yours. There was a visible gap between your fingertips and you whimpered to stare at it. “What happened?”

He gave you a small grin and shrugged. “Do...not...worry.” He shook in a silent laugh. “I have done this...before.” He stretched painfully, rolling his shoulders. “It is not the first time I have been...in jail.”

“But—what happened?” Your eyes were wide with worry. “Can I help?”

He smiled at you with surprising warmth. “You are a treasure, koneko.” He looked around at the other empty desks and shook his head. “There is little that can be done here.” You were going to say something, but he continued in a soft, voice. “I will await the results of the investigation and, hopefully, be freed.”

“But...they say that—that....”

“What are they saying, Kitten?”

“Genji—.” You shuddered, remembering the battered form of his brother. “He’s...in the hospital.”

Hanzo stared at you, his eyes wide and dark. “So that is what this is about.”

“What?!”

He shrugged again, glancing at the grumpy guard twirling his baton in the corner of his shoulder. Finally, he looked back at you, “I had not.... No one told me.”

You stared at him in shock. “But...Genji is in the hospital!”

He blinked uncertainly. “In...in the hospital?! What is...is wrong with him?”

You scowled, looking at the guard and dropped your voice unconsciously. “He...he’s beat to hell. Dented and scratched and missing half his right arm.”

Hanzo’s breath sucked in. “What happened?”

You shrugged. “Everyone says you were chasing him across base with a sword shouting you were going to kill him.”

His high cheekbones colored a dusky pink. “Well...that part is true.” It was your turn to gasp in shock. “I...I.... He was threatening to go to Jesse—.” You growled, scowling. “He said he was going to go to Jesse and the commanders and....” He shrugged lamely. “I could not—. You...koneko...you are too precious to me.”

“But what happened to him, then?”

“When we separated, he was fine,” Hanzo whispered. “I cornered him behind the kitchens—.”

“And then what happened?”

“We fought, koneko,” he nodded. “But there were no serious injuries.”

You shook your head. “He’s in the hospital. He’s missing his right arm.”

“It was not me,” Hanzo insisted. “I went back to the apartment and...and you were gone, koneko.” His eyes dropped shyly, but you saw his anguished look. “I was.... It does not matter, I suppose, but I was hoping to come back and....”

You nodded as his voice trailed off and he turned pink again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do, so I went home.”

He smiled softly and nodded thoughtfully. After a long pause, he asked, “Would you do something for me?”

“Anything!” you replied firmly.

“Go home...to Jesse,” he sighed sadly. His fingers went pressed harder on the glass and his eyes dropped again. “I want you to go home to Jesse and...be safe.

“I have wanted that most—for you to be safe. Go home to him, be safe.” Your protesting was cut short. “What we had—what we shared—was the most important and...amazing night I have ever had. Even if it was cut short—I never expected...never hoped to...have such a generous—amazing....” His eyes blazed before he looked away again. “It...was amazing.”

“I’ll tell Jesse and see if he knows any good lawyers,” you whispered.

“No, koneko,” he whispered.

“Why?!”

“If it comes out—then you and Jesse may be hurt.” He shrugged. “It may hurt his chances for advancement, for better opportunities.” His dark eyes stared at yours with a burning intensity. “It may hurt your chances for a better job as well that you are...seeing a criminal such as me.”

You snorted, “Jesse is an outlaw. I don’t think that will affect us.”

“Go home, koneko,” he said softly. “Know that I will never forget your generosity. Your beauty.” His voice dropped to the softest of whispers. “Your body.”

“I’ll get some help,” you insisted.

“I am going to be fine,” he whispered. “I have done this before and I will likely do it again.” His expression changed to an agonized one. “But I could not survive knowing that my...my carelessness harmed you in any way.”

You sighed heavily. “Please, Hanzo. Let me—.”

“Koneko,” he smiled. His expression was so warm that you wondered that the glass between you didn’t melt. “You are as thoughtful as you are sexy. Do not worry about me.”

“You are a h-h-hero!” you sobbed softly. “You sh-sh-shouldn’t be chained l-l-like an animal and—.” You glared at the smirking guard as he twirled his baton. “—And you shouldn’t be b-b-beaten—!”

He smiled gently. “Yuki...yuki, koneko.” His soft shushing sounded like a soothing rush of water. “Courage, kitten. Genji is...is alive?” You nodded as tears filled your eyes. “Then it will only be a little while.” His smile was forced as his hand spread on the glass at yours. “Do not weep for me, kireina. It will...work out.”

Your red eyes looked into his. He was so solemn and patient and gentle like a thoughtful samurai staring into a waterfall. His calm filled you and you couldn’t help but nod. He smiled and nodded slowly in return.

“There you are. Your smile seemed to be in danger,” he whispered. “Now, go.”

“I’ll be back—.”

“Koneko,” he frowned, his voice going deep. “You must go home to Jesse.” Your mouth opened in protest and he shook his head. “I am fine.... Now, go home.”

You shuddered as you felt the command in his voice. He was using That Voice that made you shiver and obey him. The same deep and rich timber when he told you to breathe or relax and submit before he shot you to a pleasure you had no words for. That Voice told you without words that he was confident that things would work out, that things would be fine.

“Yes,...sir.”

“Good, koneko,” he smirked. There was a pause and he sighed thoughtfully. “And tell Jesse...that he better not be stupid like when we were in Nepal.”

You nodded slowly again and gave him a timid smile. He sagged against the window, straining against the chains as he tried to get close to you. “Be well, my beautiful kitten.”

You watched as he hung up the phone and nodded at the guard. The burly guard came forward and began the complicated ritual of unlocking the chains and the led him away. You stared at the phone, listening to the buzz in your ear. The room seemed to go dark as the other side remained empty.

The walk back to your apartment was again bleak and cold. Thankfully, Jesse had come back. He took one look at your face and grimaced, standing up and getting you a hot drink with just a drop or two of alcohol.

“Tell old Jesse what happened,” he chuffed out.

You took the drink and sipped it. “He’s in the brig.” Jesse nodded slowly. “B-b-but the guard today was a total piece of fucking shit.” The cowboy’s eye’s widened at your uncharacteristic foul language. “He just beat the hell out of Hanzo for no reason.”

Jesse smirked and looked down, shaking his head as though he found it funny. “Darlin’—you weren’t there when Hanzo first got here.” You shook your head, a perplexed look on your face. “He was roaring drunk and just kind of trailing Genji—who was also drunk—like a puppy. I saw when they got to base and the first time that security tried to check him out.”

“What happened?!”

“Aww, you know how they do when you get here the first time. They use the wand and make sure you’re not carrying a bomb. Check your bag and stuff and then send it all through that machine that’s supposed to check for contraband and explosives before sending you to get to get your picture taken.” You nodded, remembering all the rigamarole you went through as you moved in. “So they got to Hanzo’s quiver—.” You were drawing a blank for a moment, then you remembered his scattershot arrows, his explosive arrows. “—and he kind of exploded.”

“Kind of exploded?!”

“Yeah—they got rooting around his quiver and buzzers and bells were going off and they tried to confiscate it—.”

“And he exploded.”

Jesse nodded sagely. “He’s a slippery bastard, too. Genji weren’t much help either and Hanzo almost ended up spending his first night on base in the brig.”

“Almost?”

“So apparently Genji’s original Omnic parts couldn’t handle the amount of alcohol the new stuff can. And he went to the brig that night and together they broke out.”

“Oh my God!” You shook your head in disbelief. “Then what happened?”

“They went to Genji’s apartment and began drinking again.” Jesse laughed at your face and continued. “It was plumb brilliant how they escaped, too. No one even saw them leave and even the surveillance cameras didn’t show anything. Only reason anyone knew where Hanzo was because the next morning, they staggered up and opened the window and began waving at people.” Jesse shrugged. “It was so slick that it impressed 76 and the commander’s and they kind of made it officially a ‘misunderstanding’ and told them not to do it again.

“Except they got a reputation now. So if they are ever in the brig, they get automatic max security—if not permanent solitary. Heavy chains and no breaks and all that.” Jesse dropped a kiss to your shocked cheek. “Now Hanzo is better—and probably won’t do nothing like that again, but the whole security staff that night had to eat some serious crow for how easily they got out.”

“But that was, like, ages ago, wasn’t it?”

You were shaking your head in disgust when Jesse took your hand and looked at you seriously. “Now I don’t want to scare ya, but you know who he is, right?”

You were utterly confused and shook your head. “He was some kind of gangster in Japan?”

“They call them ‘yakuza’. And he wasn’t just a yakuza—but THE yakuza. The hereditary leader of the meanest and biggest and baddest pack of them.” You sighed sadly. “His dad was a mean cuss from what I hear, and they dealt in all kinds of stuff. And the sole reason that Overwatch made any headway in breaking their hold on Japan was that Hanzo was on our side.

“A lot of folks died and a lot of folks were hurt. Not just Overwatch but informants and spies and stuff. Even a lot of bystanders.” Jesse’s eyes were soft and dark as he watched you shudder. “If that little escape didn’t make things bad enough, a whole lot of people were hurt trying to bring the syndicate down before and after he joined.”

You were groaning and had your face in your hands. It was hardly a surprise then, that the guards were harsh with him. If that first incident hit 76’s radar, there was undoubtedly investigations and findings and all of it wrapped up in paperwork and probably heads had rolled. And if there was anything that people hated—doubly the commanders—was having their noses rubbed in a mistake. Hanzo’s first act on the base was to show a big hole in their security and detention practices and probably everyone had been just waiting for him to slip up....

Poor Hanzo, you thought, starting to weep again.

In the interminable time since you showed up to visit, Hanzo had been forced to do very little. The guard had certainly remembered him, and he had a black eye and a few aching bruises to prove it. Unfortunately in the solitary wing, there were plenty of guards and security focused on him and little focused on them.

His solitary cell had a simple bed with a flat pillow and a blanket. There was a minuscule sink and a toilet in a corner and the whole square room was visible through the translucent blue force field. The sink retracted into the wall and he had to press a button to request for the guard to push his button and have it come out. There was no spigot, just a hole in the wall with a cement lip to guide any water. The sink had to come out to reveal the touch controls for the water.

He would get three generic meals a day, a shower in a force field contained and visible vestibule once a day, and he could request a book every four hours that would be electronically broadcast to the blank white wall. He knew ahead of time that the guards were against him so the meals would be cold and perhaps even picked over. The showers would be breathtakingly short and the guards ultimately would control the temperature which meant they would be cold. The books may or may not be granted and who knew what kind of things would be delivered. Once he had requested a copy of “The Tale of Genji” and he had received a children’s version with large, colorful illustrations and about a thousand words in the whole thing. Another time he had requested War and Peace—something that would take at least four hours to read—and had received notice that it was “too violent” and “promoted violence and rebellion” and been forced to wait another four hours to request something else.

But the one thing he had going for him was, ironically, his background. He had been imprisoned a number of times and it was largely the same thing every time whether it was here or in Japan. He would be held until it was time for him to be questioned or until someone arranged for his release or a lawyer was assigned to him. So all he needed to do was to pass the time until something happened.

Usually, he was good at it. He could sit in restful meditation for hours. He could, if his mood was particularly dark, plot how to wreak vengeance on his guards. He had enough room to do small exercises like sit-ups or push-ups and yoga. He could run in place for a while, too. Those things would pass the time and it would wear him out and allow him to sleep. But for right now, he wanted to simply lay quietly and think. His didn’t want to disrupt this soothing and pleasant hum.

He had never felt so free as when you had come to him. He could replay every moment, relive it in some kind of overwhelming way that made every detail grow until it filled him. The way you shimmied out of that thin, soaked top he could relive in quiet wonder. The way the wet skirt had hugged your thighs as you stepped out of it could flicker behind his eyes as long as he wanted. The smell of fresh rain and the faint trace of your own scent could almost fill his lungs as the seconds slid by in almost perfect silence.

Then he moved ahead a bit. Not more than a half hour, though. Had he really told you that he had not enjoyed every moment of your company he had managed to steal? Had he truly told you he was not satisfied? His mental fast forward skipped over that part to where you were peeling off his haori and sliding down to kneel in front of him with that mutinous expression on your face, daring him to prove himself. The way your lower lip had pushed out like a flower petal, the wet anger burning in your eyes, the pink flush to your cheeks had filled him with so much feeling and heat that even now he could barely stand it.

He sighed, sinking into that single moment, the perfect second. He could see everything in its most detailed form as if he had taken a hundred years to paint it with the skill of a master. You kneeling on the rug like an offering to his lust. The rough carpet with your footprints where you had mussed the fibers. You had slid off his coat and he could remember that it was the dark gray one with the silvery thread along the lapels and the silver outline of a coiling dragon on the shoulder.

He replayed that single moment, stretching it further and further as he stayed there in his mind, staring down at you. You were so unexpectedly bold, so beautiful in your courage and your complete trust that he would not hurt you. What kind of courage and trust had it taken to come to him like that—in your almost see-through clothing? To stand in his doorway and simply take off the soaking wet things and hand them to him as if he was...safe....

So, as the lights turned off in his cell except for the soft glow of the force field, he again thought of you and marveled again at your beauty.


	7. Chapter 7

You were abnormally busy the next few days. You worked and spent time with Jesse, of course. You went to the medical wing a few times to see if Genji was better, but you got turned away because of privacy laws. Ironically, that did give you an excuse to visit Hanzo again so that, as the next of kin, he could grant you permission. He only nodded and signed the paperwork before giving you a smile and being hauled away again.

It was progress, though—and you were finally able to see Genji again. The doctors and technicians had him in a stasis tank—tubes running all over him and through the clear liquid that bubbled every so often. He seemed to be almost floating there as the tubes drifted slowly around him. A light made the liquid seem slightly green.

You walked slowly around the tank, staring at the hovering figure. Most of his armor was peeled off and it was only him and the prosthetics. Unlike Hanzo, his build was wiry and slender, almost effeminate. His torso was mostly intact, the slender omnic arm almost a match for the flesh arm. One leg was entirely artificial and the other was cut short with a metallic foot. As you came to his back, you saw a breathtakingly beautiful dragon in shades of green coiling up from his waist to his shoulders.

It was almost horrifying to stare at his robotic right shoulder and realize that the metal cut off the inked dragon’s head.

You darted back around to stare at his face. He seemed asleep, placid and calm, like a fairy tale prince hovering and waiting for true love’s kiss. His jaw was red and lumpy from wearing the harness for his face plate, but he hardly needed that in the weightless liquid and you could see the discrete stints on his neck.

Now you stood there, in front of the panel, staring at him. You didn’t know what to believe anymore. Perhaps Hanzo wasn’t safe—to have done this....

“Push the green button if you want to talk to him,” came Mercy’s voice from the door.

You spun to face the Swiss doctor. She was almost ethereal in her fine features and her icy blonde coloring, but looking closer, you could see some slight pall of human weariness too. She had her stethoscope around her neck and her long white coat over one shoulder as she came in and stood beside you.

“It might help him to hear someone speaking to him,” she said as she stared up at him. “The tank is helping, of course, by providing support and floatation so that he doesn’t get bedsores or anything, but it dulls the normal stimulus.” She gave him a sad smile. “We try to raise and lower the lights, try to talk or play music and so on, but it is not the same as having him in a regular bed where he can use all his senses.”

She reached near you and hit a green button on the tank. “Hello, Genji. How is my favorite patient?” You watched as he seemed to shift slightly and a trio of bubbles came out of the mask on his face. “Jesse must have heard you were here because you now have a visitor. You know that Jesse’s been a good friend since Blackwatch, right?”

His eyes slid slowly open and he seemed to stare at you both. He nodded just a bit. There was some static over the speaker. “Hello.”

Mercy grinned at you and turned back to him. “It’s good you feel better—feel good enough to talk. Your new arm and armor will be ready today, so if things go well, you can get them attached today.”

He seemed to nod slightly and his eyes slid from her to you. There was another brief moment of static and then again you heard, “Hello.”

You smiled and gave him a bashful wave, your cheeks coloring. Mercy kept herself smiling as she turned to you. “Sometimes it takes a while for the connection between his cybernetics and the translation interface with Athena and then to the tank speakers. Don’t worry.”

She was going to say something else when there was more static and then the cyborg got out, “Sorry.”

Mercy turned back to him and hit the button again. “There’s nothing for you to be sorry about, Genji. You wouldn’t want me to bored, would you? I’m glad to see you.” She blushed. “Although it would be nice to see you all in one piece.”

“No. Sorry.” He twitched slightly. “Not going... to tell... anyone.”

Your cheeks went red, hoping you really understood what he said. He wouldn’t have told anyone? That would have changed things maybe.... Hitting the button, you said, “Thanks.”

He seemed to smile and gave you a nod. “Don’t...hurt him.”

“I won’t,” you sighed. “I never want to hurt—either one of you.”

“Where—Hanzo?”

You glanced up nervously to Mercy and then back to him. “Hanzo?” He gave you an unsteady nod. “Uhhh...that’s kind of a long story.”

Mercy’s cheeks went red and her teeth gritted. She mashed the button and snapped, “Don’t worry. He won’t be here to bother you....”

Whatever she might have added, it was obvious that Genji was not able to stay awake any longer. His head tilted wearily and his eyes slid closed. The lights in the tank blinked uncertainly and Mercy fiddled with the buttons and turned the lights down. She tapped your shoulder and pointed to the hallway, leading you out.

“I haven’t told him that Hanzo is being held,” she hissed softly. “I don’t want him upset.”

You were too shocked to say anything. Genji was obviously in no condition to talk and you had no way to do anything. You finally went back to the apartment and called Jesse. He ducked a meeting—not that he wasn’t going to anyway—to come home early to hold you.

“Honey—you need to calm down,” he whispered as you cuddled with him on the couch. “You’re gonna make yourself sick, darlin’.”

You nodded and sobbed into his bandana again. “Genji’s all torn up and Hanzo’s locked up and—and—and—.”

“And what darling?”

“And it’s all my fault!” you wept. You gave him an outline of what happened. “I didn’t think that Genji was going to cause trouble, but then—.”

Jesse nodded slowly. “And Hanzo took off after him.”

You nodded, your messy cheeks red. “He went off and was screeching after him with a sword in his hand. He said that if Genji said anything he’d kill him but then in the j-j-jail he said that they were behind the kitchen and that Genji was fine!”

“An’ you believe him.”

You nodded rapidly and kept jabbering, sobbing, “I do! He said that Genji was fine and I believe it—believe him—and there was no reason for him to be beaten and caged up like an animal and he wanted me to come back home and be safe with you and i-i-i-it’s not fair because he’s not some kind of monster.”

Jesse nodded slowly, his warm brown eyes trying to understand. “He said that?”

You nodded again, refolding his wet bandana and blowing your nose noisily with a honk. “He was worried only about me and you—that he wanted me to be safe and that if I talked to him it would hurt our opportunities and stuff about Nepal and I never wasn’t in any danger and...and.... I don’t understand!”

Suddenly Jesse was sitting up straight. “What?!”

You yelped at his sudden change and whined out, “What?”

“He said something about Nepal?”

You nodded slowly, bewildered. “Yeah....”

Jesse hissed angrily and patted your hand. “You’re gonna have to stay here a minute. I’ll be out and I’m gonna be back.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

He sighed impatiently as he grabbed his badge and his keys. “If he’s..... It’s Nepal.”

“What’s ‘Nepal’?”

“Operation NepalTourist was one of our worst missions.” Jesse grabbed his wallet and a new bottle of rye from the liquor cabinet, “We were supposed to be escorting a group of Omnic representatives to the U.N. in Oslo. It was supposed to be a milk run—peaceful Omnics coming in for an equal rights forum—but there was a group of militants that had declared war on them. 

“They were heavily armed with black market goods—rocket launchers and grenade launchers and pulse rifles—and there wasn’t no talking it down. They took a bunch of hostages—humans and Omnics—and we were trying to run security. We ended up dealing with a bunch of terrorists and a bomb.”

You were too bewildered to cry anymore and stared up at him as the cowboy rustled around. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Jesse almost skidded to a stop. “The only clue they left behind was some graffiti whenever they attacked on Omnic. We were running out of time and Hanzo realized that there wasn’t any way we could break the group or settling this peacefully so he decided to just join up. He cut his hair, we added some temporary tattoos and a disguise. He looked about 15 years younger with all his hair cut off and no beard or mustache and put in some contacts so that his eyes were green. Looked totally different. He managed to talk his way into see the leaders and to the bomb and the hostages. If he hadn’t managed to do all that, we would have lost it all.” You nodded. “And it was surveillance tapes that proved that the leader was there....”

“So what does that have to do with Genji?”

Jesse patted your cheek. “Don’t ask me how, but Genji came to the front with Zenyatta and drew their attention from the front with big speeches of how Omnics and people can live in harmony, he was in the back, disabling them. Anyway—maybe—he saw something related to those terrorists. Maybe he saw something, heard something that someone might have had a beef against Omnics....”

He saw the continual confusion on your face and added, “It’s a long shot, but Genji has always been an inflammatory part of the Omnic rights debates. Lots of people think he’s not human at all—that he’s some kind of monster or a pod person or not even a person. He’s not thought of as human and the Omnics don’t think he’s one of them.”

“B-b-but Zenyatta?”

Jesse laughed softly. “Oh, the Omnics have their ranges of attitudes and beliefs. Some of them think that harmony and peace are possible. Some of them think that Omnics are superior and humans should be the second class.” He shrugged. “It’s kind of funny that they were created to be fair and unemotional and unbiased and they still managed to somehow find out how to be damn stubborn and prejudiced.”

You nodded as he kissed you goodbye and disappeared. The afternoon and evening slunk by as you pottered around and did...nothing. It got dark and cold and the wind whistled outside. You took a long, hot bath with the works—bubbles and loofah and a face mask and a sugar scrub and a huge bath bomb. You even turned on some soft, soothing music as you rubbed a hot oil treatment into your hair and scalp. You even painted your nails as you waited for the mud mask to dry.

It was after midnight when you finally got a text message from Jesse: “Get beautiful cause the heroes coming home.”

You let out a deep breath and slid on the silver babydoll nightie with satin ribbons. It had become your favorite since both Jesse and Hanzo had loved it. Your hair had blown dry in the usual tousled mess and, honestly, you didn’t see the need to style it. Instead, you put on your favorite lip gloss and called it done.

But an hour passed and you didn’t hear or see anything. Exhausted, you went to bed, sprawling on top of the messy covers. The cowboy could come in when he made it in and he would love to just roll you over and pepper you with kisses before making love to you.

The first thing you were aware of was a soft touch going to the ribbons and pulling the bows loose. You smiled to feel so warm all over, stretching languidly as you felt kisses on your cheek and breast. The satin was pulled away and warm, rough hands began cradling your skin. You let out a soft mew as those strong hands gently pulled you up to kneel on the mattress.

You wove on your knees and sort of crumpled forward. Jesse caught you and you were surrounded by the scent of rye and cigar smoke. You vaguely saw his dark eyes crinkle as you nuzzled his thickly muscled chest and rubbed your cheek in the crisp hairs that covered him.

“Well hello darlin’,” he grinned huskily. “You lonely?”

You yawned and nodded sleepily. Sitting back on your heels, you rubbed your eyes and shrugged out of the final satiny ribbon. “What time is it?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” he grunted. “Already told everyone that we’re gonna take a day off.”

You nodded sleepily again and began to lay back when you hit something warm and smooth. That startled you enough to wake up a bit more with a squeak and straighten, only to have two strong arms wrap gently around you.

“Koneko,” Hanzo purred in your ear. A drift of rye and a sweet flavor you couldn’t quite place right now filled your nose. “Are you so lonely?”

You squealed in joy and whirled on the mattress. Your thrashing feet stomped Jesse’s thigh as you struggled through the last cobwebs of sleep and the tangle of pillows and covers. Jesse let out a pained cry and drunkenly fell backwards. You turned back just in time to see him plop back, gripping his thigh, and lose his balance. Abruptly, he rolled backward off the edge of the bed with his legs comically up and hitting the floor with a thud. Jesse grumbled and you saw him struggle to get upright again. His shaky hand reached up and tugged on the blanket, only to pull a big pillow right on top of him.

You heard Hanzo chuckle and you turned back to him. Automatically, you reached out to wrap your hands along his jaws. Your eyes were wide as you stared up at his dark eyes. Somehow, despite the shadowy room and the depth of night, his stare seemed to exude heat and longing.

“Ah...are you—truly....here?” you whispered softly. “Really?”

He nodded slowly. “Thanks to you, koneko.” He unsteadily kissed your forehead. “Jesse somehow got to the tapes—.”

“Tapes?”

Jesse let out a theatrical sigh and said from the floor, “Surveillance tapes from behind the kitchen where they watch for deliveries and stuff.”

He nodded, one hand stroking your hair soothingly. His voice was soft as he purred, “It was a good thing, too. They tape the back area to monitor the delivery trucks and then rotate the tapes every few days, so it might have been erased if not for his swift action.”

The bed swayed as Jesse managed finally to get upright. “The tapes showed them both fighting, but also both of them finally breaking up and walking away.”

You let out a sigh, suddenly giddy and almost drunk with relief. With a happy sound, you plowed into the archer to wrap your arms around him as tight as you could. “Then, you’re free.” He nodded, his arms tightening around you as well. “Genji said that he was sorry, too—that he won’t tell anyone.”

Hanzo paused, considering that. A part of him was bitterly jealous that you had gone to see his brother, but it was quickly overshadowed by the joy of being next to you again. He positively burned knowing that you had managed to get him help. He felt as though he would start glowing if he didn’t do something....

Jesse managed to get up behind you, his arms around your waist. You felt his scruffy beard scraping your neck as he kissed you. “Yeah—this little girl did all right.” His breath was loaded with rye. “The tapes then showed a group of thugs following Genji down an alley, so now there’s an investigation led by Zenyatta to find the actual perpetrators.”

Hands drifted over you, holding and caressing you. You were swamped as you felt not one but two warm chests against you. Jesse’s hands held your shoulders as Hanzo’s fingers crept between your legs to tease your core. You whined, your fingers and hands suddenly clumsy as they helped you lay back, your legs spreading wide as he laid down, his head dipping and his tongue dragging along your skin.

Hanzo could sense everything about you—your heat and your scent and the thick wet along your folds. It was as if his time in that hated cell had sharpened every one of his senses to almost an unbearable degree. Like a solitary monk in austere surroundings may sense things far beyond a normal man’s, he could sense your arousal from a mile away. He was still not quite sure what he had done to deserve this bizarre twist of fate to allow you to be spread open like this, but he was not going to let anything stop him.

His tongue dipped into you, making you moan and tremble. Another thick smear of your juice smeared over his face, making his skin fragrant with your arousal. His fingers dipped into you, going automatically to the knuckles and making you gasp and buck against his shaking hand. Lapping and licking, his face began bobbing as his fingers thrust in and out. He pulled out his fingers and sucked them off. His mouth filled with your tangy sweetness and instantly his tongue went into you as deep as he could drive it. After such deprivation of being in solitary, he was eager to take in everything he could. So, like a thirsty man at a life-giving fountain, he buried his face into your slick and drank as deep as he could.

Jesse laughed huskily as you bucked up against Hanzo’s face and your torso twisting. He dropped kisses to your face and breasts. Shakily, you whined as he suckled your nipple. You were on fire and incoherent as the archer worked your core and he nursed at your breasts and kissed your lips. You let out a pitiful whine and your hands darted between them.

“I’m gonna...cum,” you mewled, trying to figure out which way up was. Fire swamped you, boiling each time that one or the other of them grinned and erotically attacked you again. The climax kept building and building as they kept going and for a breathless moment, your only thought was that you’d have to satisfy them both when you were so exhausted.

Hanzo growled between your legs. Your pleasure swamped his senses as he tried to decide what to do next. His fingers went into you again and you growled, bucking against him. Your climax rippled through you and you shuddered. Your thighs tightened around him and one hand tangled in his hair and pulled hard in your desperation. Not that he wasn’t happy to give you what you wanted....

Jesse crooned towards you, rolling sideways and giving you room to stretch out right there. “There’s a lot of happy sounds coming out of you, aren’t there?”

You blindly nodded, trying to tug someone on top of you. Both of them chuckled and you whimpered in confusion. Jesse snorted and finally spoke, “Well...darlin’, I’m gonna let ya both have a bit of fun—.”

Your confused sound made Hanzo chuckle as he settled between your legs. He nuzzled you, his beard coarse and rough against your soft skin, purring softly. Finally he whispered, “I am...still thinking about how I feel, what to think, but for now, Jesse and I have reached an agreement.”

You let out a sound and touched Jesse’s denim clad leg. “What is it?”

“Darling, so tonight we ask you how you feel. There’s two of us and one of you, and it might be a bit hard, but, hell—you both are just beautiful. I just thought that you both might kinda wanna finish what you started.” His red cheeks were heard in the slight quiver of his husky voice. “And so we’ll figure out everything in the morning, but tonight I’ll make myself scarce.”

You snorted, somehow knowing that he’d go to his favorite recliner and kick back and probably masturbate like crazy. Hanzo chuckled and wriggled a bit, capturing your attention as he began suckling your nipple as you watched him saunter stiffly out. Then Hanzo gently nipped the tight nub and you couldn’t focus on anything else.

“I...will stop if you wish,” he whispered softly, his hungry hands stroking your skin. You shook your head jerkily. “Ahh...my precious pet, you are so perfect.” Again he took your nipple in his mouth, running his tongue over it and smirking as you shook. “I will take care of you, koneko.”

There was a shush as he slid off his clothes and kicked them off the bed to the floor. Immediately he returned and began nipping at your earlobes as his fingers again dipped into your sopping core. Cooling wet was covered with warm slick as your legs went to his waist. He went slowly back and forth, waiting for that slight catch in your breathing that told him that you were helpless in your passion.

“Slowly,” he whispered. His cock was throbbing in anticipation. He had spent plenty of the past hours just thinking about you and those fantasies made this reunion sweeter. You began bucking, begging him without words to do something already. “Patience, koneko.”

Blindly, he reached for the condom package and his hands shook so much that he almost dropped it. He had promised to keep you safe and that included pregnancy protection. He was fumbling a bit, blood rushing in him when he felt your warm fingers. He swore as you rolled it down his shaft, making the sweet ache worse.

“P-p-patience, koneko,” he hissed, bucking into your palm as you got the condom on him.

Of course, you had no sooner gotten it on than he was sliding gently into you. Your gasp was musical as he began moving. Your legs tightened around him, tugging him tighter. His teeth gritted together as he tried to move slowly and give you time to get used to him.

“Give it to me,” you whispered in his ear.

With a moan, he pumped hard, your hips grinding up to him. What else was he supposed to do? He gave you what you wanted, thrusting hard to feel you surrounding him in heat and rippling over his screaming cock. Almost instantly, he felt the rushing frenzy to cum, the precipice hurtling towards him.

Your whines panted out every time he thrust in. God, it felt so good to feel him finally doing what he wanted. And he wanted, starving for your touch and shivering with every brush of your fingers. He kept snapping his hips, hammering inside you. You were suddenly stuck right on the edge, and he growled in your ear as his fingers plucked your nipples and stroked your clit with the precision of a master.

When you came, you gasped and shuddered, your hands gripping him and clutching him. Another hard snap, and you heard him gasp. His thrusts became erratic for a breathless moment and then he surged into you. He swore softly, shaking in your arms as everything in him poured into you.

He had thought that it wouldn’t be much more than when he was alone in the dark in his apartment. He thought the climax would shake through him and he would still feel a faint gnawing hunger in his belly. Instead, his climax tore from him so hard that he threw his head back to try to suck in his next breath through his clenched teeth and his belly spasmed as cum kept pouring out of him. By the time he could get in a deep enough breath, he felt wrung out and like there was not a trace of moisture in him. His knew finally what it was to be completely spent.

You were crooning to him, stroking his long hair off his sticky, sweaty back, as he came back to this reality. Everything felt replete, satisfied and boneless. The contentment was so complete, so profound, that for a moment he was sure he was dreaming. It wasn’t possible to be released and to be here between your willing legs and buried deep in your body, was it? Surely it had to be a heavenly dream, a profound vision, and not something real....

But it was real, wasn’t it? It was not possible to be so shaken, so wobbly and off-centered and so close to collapse in a dream. Even as he pulled out with the condom in his fingers, he felt clumsy. Nothing was so satisfying as finally settling on the bed beside you after tossing the condom in the trash in the bathroom and taking a moment to appreciate that it was private with solid walls and an actual door with a real sink. He washed his hands and brought out a washcloth with warm water to clean you up. You whined softly as he gently turned you over and wiped down your sensitive skin. Then he was able to lay down at your side, intending on taking a short nap. He could hear the recliner in the other room squeal and then a sigh, but then nothing else. He could barely believe the past few hours and he had to simply study the events as he held you.

He had been dumbstruck when he had been let out, detached and only barely bemused that he was suddenly being released. The cowboy had given the night guard a huge bottle of alcohol and somehow managed to get whatever evidence that he gathered to the right people in the nick of time, and the big man had only smiled at him and offered him a ride.

In the car, the cowboy’s mouth had taken off. How worried you had been, how you had wept over him and his precarious position in the detention. How you had finally remembered to tell him about “Nepal”—and the results of the hasty, midnight investigation. He remembered seeing anti-Omnic graffiti and hadn’t known where else to begin. He had been deeply touched about how both of you had rallied to his side, despite the embarrassing and overwhelming situation.

They had rushed from there to a hasty trip to the hospital to see Genji. With a brash cockiness, they had simply glided past the receptionist and the nurses station to burst into the large room where his stasis tank was. Of course, nothing had quite prepared them for what they saw—.

Mercy was in a set of worn thin mint green sweats. There was a cot in the corner of the room with a messy bag on it and medical journals and a stethoscope and a romance novel spilled out of the top of the messed up blankets and the rumpled pillow. Underneath the cot was a pair of pink slippers with “I heal—what is your super power?” on the toes. Quite obviously, she had been in there a while.

The Swiss doctor herself was plastered against the tank, kissing the thick glass as Genji hovered as close as he could get. Their hands were spread open on the clear wall between them, so close to touching. He was smiling, his eyes warm and dark and half-closed as they tried so hard to almost touch.

Jesse choked out a small laugh as she whirled around in embarrassment, her fair cheeks pink and her hand over her mouth. Her ice blue eyes were wide and shocked as she looked up at the guiltily. “W-w-what are you doing here?!”

Jesse couldn’t help but snicker as she stammered, which made her cheeks go even more red. “Just wanted Han to know that his brother is doing all right....”

Genji slid backward in the gel, his own face shocked and embarrassed. Finally, he croaked out, “I’m fine, anija.”

Hanzo crossed his arms thoughtfully, looking at them both solemnly. “I had heard that you were barely coherent....”

Genji floated for a moment and waved his newly repaired arm. “I am better. Mercy has been—.”

Hanzo nodded and interrupted, “We can see how she is taking care of you.”

“Well...she’s been... uhh... worried.”

“So I see,” he replied smoothly. “I think that you will be interested to know that I have been cleared of charges related to your more serious injuries. The gang was filmed and is being investigated even now.”

Genji blinked, his eyes worried and his brow pleated. “Charges? You were—.”

Jesse snorted and nodded. “Didn’t you know?”

Mercy finally found her voice and choked out, “We didn’t tell him.... We didn’t want to upset him and possibly derail his progress.”

Hanzo let out a deep breath. Both Mercy and Genji squirmed as he stared at them. Finally, he nodded and gave her a shallow bow. “Thank you for taking care of him.”

“Oh!” she blushed. Her eyes were wide and she thought that—maybe—he wasn’t as dour and foul tempered as she had thought. He seemed to even have a twinkle of humor in his eyes as he looked at her and the rather obvious...personal attention she had given him. “We.... We were going to give a statement tomorrow morning—.” She shrugged a bit bashfully. “He just woke up.”

Hanzo nodded solemnly, giving a pointed glance to the cot again. “I will count on your... thorough care, then.”

Jesse made it out to the hallway before laughter burst out of him. It was funny, in a strange way to see them like that—all but making love—and he couldn’t help but laugh like a teenager. Hanzo had been amused as well, but he couldn’t resist lecturing the cowboy on decorum.

That lecture had opened the door for Jesse to timidly talk. “Han—you’re.... Well, there’s no great way to say this, but you are purely beautiful. And I think that you and my little girl are... are just beautiful together.” Hanzo had nodded slowly, uncertain what to say. “And I get the feeling that you’re backing out cause of me, so I wanted to apologize if I’ve ever done anything to make you uncomfortable.

“She said that she told you that... I like you, too. I know it’s kind of sudden and kind of a surprise, and I don’t want nothing to stop you both from enjoying each other. I ain’t gonna let her go, cause I love her—but I want you to know that there’s room for ya if you want.”

Hanzo almost choked, unready to process the thought of the cowboy. It was faintly uncomfortable to have a huge man like Jesse talking like this. But the poor cowboy was squirming with embarrassment and stuttering, and it seemed like there was a warm welcome here.

“So.... I know that you’re probably weirded out. I just want ya to know that I’m not gonna stop the two of you from having a good uhh.... relationship.”

“What are you saying?” Hanzo finally asked.

“Uhhh.... I just want to open the door.” Jesse scratched the back of his scruffy head. “I ain’t gonna do nothing you don’t want. And I know it’s not fair to spring it on you like this, but I know she’s gonna be worried sick if she hasn’t heard the news in the morning.” His eyes flickered sideways a moment. “And it would mean the world to her if you could.... Uhh....”

“What is it?”

“As long as you both are safe...you know what I’m saying—then I want ya to know that I’m not a barrier.” He shrugged again and sighed, “Just go gentle and like you’ve always been—don’t hurt her and help me know what your limits are—then I’m glad that you’re back in our lives.”

They had rolled to a shop and got a new bottle of whiskey which they opened in the parking area outside your apartment and proceeded to have the strangest conversation Hanzo could remember. Jesse was a genuine soul, eager to finally talk and see the lay of the land. They agreed to a few base rules that shocked the archer in how liberal they were. Stay safe. It was to remain just the three of you. Use protection until the three of you agreed on what the next steps were. Anyone could say stop and the three of you would talk it out.

With rules like that—it left a huge range of possibilities, didn’t it?

Then they had slunk into the apartment, Hanzo’s imagination running wild with the possible outcomes. Jesse pushed a foil wrapped condom into his hand as they stared at you sleeping on the bed. Hanzo stared at it blankly as if he hadn’t ever seen one before when Jesse giggled and nodded towards the bed.

“You know.... I think that little girl might even love ya, too.”

“She is asleep.... Perhaps....”

“We’ll just go in and wake her up enough to know you’re out and we’ll see what happens.” His drawl thickened as the whiskey seemed to course through him. “She’s gonna be foul tempered if she misses you.”

Hanzo nodded, his mouth dry and his hand shaking as he crept inside. You were utterly beautiful in that amazing nightie, your hair a messy cloud on the pillow. He knelt on the end of the bed as Jesse sat down. Together, they stroked your skin and you rose up like a perfect angel, happy to see them both.

Now, as everything drained into contentment, his last thought was that he couldn’t decide what indulgence he would show you—and Jesse—next....


End file.
